


A Gift Horse

by RomanDiget



Series: Don't Look [1]
Category: Teenwolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bottom Derek, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanDiget/pseuds/RomanDiget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's truce with the Argents forbids him giving anyone new the Bite. But the Argents are not the only Clan of hunters. And what happens when another werewolf moves into Beacon Hills?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. don't look

**Author's Note:**

> I know when I write fan fic it's because I want to participate in the story. Sometimes as a writer but other times imagining how I would interact with these characters. That's what I've done here. Taylor Merrick was savaged by his mother's boyfriend during a family visit. Days before his first fullmoon he gets moved to Beacon Hills.  
> Since I feel bad for Derek trying to manage a bunch of teenage hormones, I gave him four more :D let the games begin.  
> Sept. 2013 I'm in the process of rewriting this arc. Here is the first rewritten section. BTW it gets explicit towards the end. non-cannon/AU nothing from season three. this is fan-fic just for fun. All teenwolf characters and trademarks are the property of MTV.

Staring out the car window in silence was all the protest I dared. After a while, Ms. Beaumont quit chattering about how healthy country living was. We turned off the freeway at Santa Clarita. Suburbs and strip-malls fell behind. I’ve never been much further than Riverside or Simi Valley before. I did get to see the orange groves people always talk about, but after a few miles those were replaced by rocky hills. Along the 126 you could see the tortured grain of sandstone were the road slashed through ancient geology, weeds, dry scrub, barbwire fences, a tumbled down gas station that looked like it had been abandoned during the Dustbowl. Signs pointed west toward Ventura but we turned north onto 150.  
There were farms; I thought I saw cotton fields, and some kind of low growing yellow flower. I wasn’t going to ask. This social worker can think I am a bratty kid if she wants to, it doesn’t matter. Mom is lost without her smart-phone, but Larry had taught me how to read maps, stuff like telling direction and time from the position of the sun. It’s kind of dumb to think I could get home on my own, but if I knew how we got here, then I could maybe find my way back if I needed to.  
The hills closed in again, but they were greener. There was pine and oak, roadside ditches that were lush green, like some one’s garden. White-faced cattle grazed behind the fences; scattered houses were just visible, tucked away from the road. We turned onto another country road as the sun started to throw longer shadows. A couple of hours later the Camry slowed almost to a stop. The road plunged into a valley surrounded by rugged hills almost qualifying as mountains. That valley cupped a town, brightly painted houses and windows gleamed like jewels in the sunset.  
The sun was already behind the hills when we pulled up, but there was enough light to see the neatly kept wooden houses and well-tended lawns. Everything I had seen, from the sparkling shop windows on Broadway, to the neatly bedded petunias by the door, spoke of quiet prosperity.  
I didn’t realize we were parking until the engine shut off. For a moment I was confused; we weren’t stopping to visit someone this late in the day, but my social worker had already climbed out of the car. Her white jeans and pink blouse glowed in the fading light.  
“Come on, I still have to drive back tonight. Let’s get you settled with your new family.”  
Her voice was warm, and a bit smug. I’ve been placed with almost a dozen families since the county took me. None of them had been more that a bare step above the fire-traps Mom usually ended up renting. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to live someplace nice. But if you don’t show up for work because you are hung-over, and your boyfriends bust up your apartment, well things get difficult. I guess from the Court’s point of view, it wasn’t where mom lived that was the problem.  
Climbing out of the car, pulled on my stiches, it must have shown because Beaumont was on me like a cat on a mouse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about your medication wearing off.”  
I don’t like being smothered. Her arm around my waist pulled the abused muscles a different way. “Ouch! Let go, please.”  
She flinched a little bit. “Sorry again; how can I help?”  
Oh jeez. Now she was being careful of my teenage dignity. Sometimes, I wish grown-ups wouldn’t pretend to care about my feelings. A deep breath pulled my stitches again; little pink and yellow sparks started popping behind my eyes. I couldn’t really see very clearly anyway with the sunset’s glare bouncing off the car. When I turned my head away it got worse, much worse, things started to spin. I was left clutching at the car door for balance.  
Pain was spreading under my skin and beginning to burn in a way that really didn’t help me keep standing. Beaumont was still fussing at me, also not helpful. I heard a door open and footsteps on the pavement.  
“Is everything okay?” A man’s voice, it was unfamiliar, off-key, and distorted. The aftershave hit me from a dozen feet away, the closer he got the more violently it banged around inside my skull, like the ball bearing in one of those old arcade games.  
“We forgot his pain meds. Can you help me get him inside?” All right, she knew him, and I guessed we were where we were supposed to be. Her judgment was going to stand, because lights, noise, and smells, were beating the crap out of me. Had I hit my head?  
“Taylor, Mr. Parr is going to carry you inside. Just relax; honey, we’re going to take care of you. Don’t worry.”  
I wasn’t going to argue. I’ve missed a dose before and the pain was nothing like this. An arm slipped around my shoulders offering stability.  
“Let go of the door, son, I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”  
I don’t know if I actually let go, or just lost my grip, but another arm was under my knees; while the sky spun overhead. There were more voices, doors opening, closing, questions asked. Keeping track was beyond me. I was cradled against a man’s chest like a little kid and the pounding of his heartbeat drowned everything else. Then it was dark.  
***  
A light was showing under the door; the room didn’t spin when I sat up, so that was good. The smells were just the normal ones of laundry and recent paint. Muffled by walls and a closed door, I heard voices, neither hushed, nor accusing. I took that as a good sign. Sitting there on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed, watching the yellow glow creep under the door, I tried to understand what had happened. Outside an open window, sunset was still fading toward true darkness. I’ve never fainted before.  
Mom always said my guardian angel worked overtime. It’s not that I am accident prone or stupid, but maybe I am a little reckless. Anyway, with me gone, mom can get on with her life. I know she only stayed with Larry because he was into being a father-figure. She doesn’t need a kid at her heels. Four more years until my 18th; I wouldn’t be anybody’s problem then.  
Listening more carefully I could tell the voices belonged to Ms. Beaumont, another woman, and a man. Mr. Parr? I couldn’t connect a face to it, but it seemed likely. This room was dim, not dark. I could see a dresser with a gym bag on top. TG my legs didn’t buckle as I went to the door, running my hand along the wall brail-like until the light switched on.  
It was a small room, eggshell white, space enough for the narrow bed and old fashioned dresser and not much else, but both door and window locked from inside. Privacy is not something I take for granted. Pulling up the edge of my shirt, I checked the gauze taped to my side. A few spots of dried blood and wider stains of crusty yellow were visible. The tape holding it in place wrapped all the way around my body. I was pretty sure I could not manage changing this bandage on my own. The dog had mangled me pretty bad; the EMTs had thought I was going to die in transit. So it was a relief there wasn’t more blood showing now. The doctor must have stitched me up pretty tight.  
Crossing to the dresser I opened my bag and checked the contents; two pairs of jeans, T-shirts, socks, underwear. The snapshots of Mom, Larry and me were still there. Beaumont had wanted me to get rid of those. It was stupid to hang on to them. I almost died, but I just couldn’t throw them away. Pick your battles; the county wanted to move me to some backwoods town where I didn’t know anybody. I couldn’t stop them, but family photos; those were mine. No one had the right to take them from me.  
I heard a floor board creak. When the door opened, I was sitting back on the bed looking nervous. The nerves were real; I’m a veteran of changing foster-families. They always want you to know you are there on sufferance, and no matter how bad the situation is it can always be worse.  
Beaumont’s face peeked through the partially open door. “Are you feeling better?”  
“Yes ma’ am.”  
She looked skeptical. I guess she had a right to that.  
“I think everything just kinda hit me all at once.” It sounded like it might be true. Whether she believed me was another story, but social-workers picked their battles too.  
She smiled; it was kind of a sad smile, though. She’s nice, young, so she really tries. I guess after a while she will find a job that doesn’t break her heart so much. Beaumont doesn’t seem the type to give in to bitterness.  
“Let’s introduce you to your new family and then I can get on the road.” She opened the door wide. There was a couple sitting nervously on a couch. Mid thirties I guess, they were both blond, with watery blue eyes. Casually dressed, but even I know what an embroidered polo pony means.  
“Yes ma’ am.” I got to my feet and went out to meet them. First impressions count; I’m not tall for my age, kind of girly looking, brown eyes, brown hair. Larry always said I was ‘a surprise looking for somewhere to happen’. I didn’t want to surprise anybody tonight.  
Mr. Parr was a psychologist and his sister an ER nurse. Strange, the county prefers married couples. It turns out the Parrs are a special placement for kids that have been through traumatic experiences. That bothered me some. My whole life gets turned upside down, for a dog bite.  
They very patiently explained Larry was a violent felon, on the run; my relationship with him put me at risk of being caught in another incident. It was safer for me and for my mom if I wasn’t where he could find me.  
That was all BS. I am still not really clear on what happened, but Larry would never hurt me; not on purpose. Unfortunately no one is interested in my opinion. I’m just a dumb kid. The grown-ups know better and the less I argue, the better everybody likes it. It sucks, but that’s how the world works. Anyway, a room of my own, no little kids to babysit, and no gangbangers to dodge, that’s a big improvement.  
***  
Mss. Parr enrolled me at Beacon Hills High the next morning. I guess the town is too small to have a proper junior high. The envelope with my school records changed hands. There was a brief interview with the Dean before she escorted me to my first class.  
As I sat down I overheard someone behind me. “Where are all these new kids coming from?” It sounded like there were more new students than just me. Should I wonder about that?  
Mr. Harris is a prick. There is nothing in my records that says I’m a troublemaker or especially stupid. But every time his eyes land on me there is this ugly scowl. The extra load of homework and the threat of detention sealed the deal.  
Next period was English. It was a little better, more homework but Ms. Keats was one of those teachers who want students to succeed instead of taking it as a personal insult when they don’t meet her expectations.  
This school has some serious issues, it’s pungent. Not like the mildew or weird chemicals, sweat, aftershave, soap are some of the smells I could put a name on, but there were others. I felt my emotions doing a wild jig between rage and depression in response to the smells I couldn’t name, and the way voices carried in here was totally weird. The students, okay small town, most of them have probably known each other their whole life. A stranger was unusual enough. The looks I got ranged from disinterested, to speculative. ‘Hive-monkeys’ Larry calls them. The pecking order is everything in school. Right now, I’m outside the regular cliques; that’s fine with me. I’ve never had a lot of friends. Mom lived fast and loose, we moved around a lot. In Los Angeles that’s not unusual, but things were different here, it’s not rocket science.  
Anyway, once you land in county care, nothing is long term. I try not to put down roots anymore. Foster kids move around a lot, because the kind of people that become foster-parents aren’t the most stable; usually, they sign-up for the economic incentive. They either have kids of their own and think one more mouth will cost less than they get in the stipend the county pays them. Or they are looking for unpaid domestic help. The county doesn’t like either of those much. Sometimes it’s much worse than that. I had a set of foster parents that thought I needed Jesus. Larry took one look at my bruises and called CPS.  
The staring was starting to piss me off, until I saw her. Bright red hair; green eyes tilted in a delicate fox-like face were burning holes in me, not the good kind. Then just for a second by some trick of light those eyes flashed acetylene blue. That was more than weird. Maybe my vision was still playing tricks on me? Her glare was more than a ‘hate stare’. I know that look when I see it. Why, is none of my business; just stay out of her way.  
Lunch was just painful. Every table was full. It went way beyond just being the new kid. People actually moved to fill in gaps if they saw me coming. Well, I didn’t want to be here either. Finally, I found an empty spot by the Art building. With the brick wall against my back I could eat my sandwich in peace. It wasn’t so bad out here, less stinky. When had I become so sensitive anyway?  
Then I saw this guy walk past. Tall, built, his jeans hung low, shoulders filling out the Spiderman T-shirt, leaving the hem flapping around a flat narrow tummy. Until now I hadn’t seen anything but white faces here. He definitely wasn’t white, but he caught me looking and changed course. Oh, shit!  
Before I could get my feet under me he was blotting out the sun, standing there holding out his hand.  
“Hi! I’m Danny.”  
I had been sure he was about to clock-me. The hand I had lifted in defense was grabbed in a warm grip. I was still off-balance, when he changed his stance, and easily pulled me to my feet; while I tried to re-connect my brain to my mouth.  
“Danny. . . Hi. Taylor here. I’m . . . ”  
“New here.” He finished for me, “Yeah I heard that . . .” He sort of stuttered at the end.  
Danny blushed, not bright enough for anybody to notice, that honey gold skin masked most of it, but he started smelling like cinnamon and all things delish. I caught myself leaning into the scent of him. Shit! I kind of staggered backward. Yeah graceful; some guy treats me decent and I want to cuddle? Worse, I don’t even have the balls for that and go all spastic.  
His eyes dimmed a little when I pulled away.  
Not wanting to fuck this up I said. “Wow you seem really cool.” The twitch of his mouth said it was too much, but maybe I was forgiven.  
He smelled like himself but like someone else too. That was fucking weird. People can’t tell each other apart by smell. We were still standing there like morons when the bell rang.  
“Shit, can’t be late for Harris.”  
I chuckled in relief; Harris wasn’t my private bogeyman. “God, don’t tell him it’s my fault.”  
“Don’t worry I’ll protect you,” it was a weird thing to say for him to say, but I was glad to hear it anyway.  
Watching him walk away was almost as good as the earlier urge to kiss him, right up to the point where a big blond guy threw an arm around Danny’s shoulders. Somehow I knew this was who I smelled on Danny. And that made no sense at all.  
Social Studies next period, and I had to hustle. The teacher was Mr. Standish; I wasn’t bored as much as I was horrified at the way everybody tuned him out. There was a pair of brothers in this class that had also just transferred in from L.A. Their nervous glances in my direction were distracting, and they were waiting for me in the hall when class let out. Again there was a confusion of smells. I felt like I wanted them to like me, but at the same time I was a little scared. They had shaggy blond hair and blue eyes, they were something to look at, Matt and Todd. It wasn’t their looks that attracted me to them, but I couldn’t figure it out, and when did I start caring about how guys looked?  
“Hi. You’re from L.A. too?” Regular students milled around us, opening lockers and changing books for their next class, most pretended not to be listening. I wasn’t sure what these guys wanted but there was way to find out.  
“Yeah; you know Pico Blvd?”  
They didn’t sneer and they didn’t flinch. “Dude . . .” There was respect in that one word. I felt my shoulders relax. “How did you get here?” Was their next question, I kept my smartass comment to myself.  
“I’m in foster care; there was an ‘incident’.” If they knew what neighborhood I was from, the rest of it was not going to be shocking. But I didn’t want my personal details all over FB or Twitter.  
“Wow dude, us too,” They weren’t from my hood, I would know of them if they were. They didn’t look or talk like the kind of kids that ended up in county care. But you know, living in a nice house and going to a good school doesn’t always mean your parents are nice people.  
The bell for sixth period rang and I went to algebra. I’m not a math person but this was nothing I couldn’t manage. Last period was finally over and I bolted for the doors. A first day is always hard but I was a nervous wreck. The schedule the Dean had given me included which school-bus would take me back to the Parrs’ but riding a bus full of strangers was more than I could take today.  
Beacon Hills isn’t that big a town. Thanks to my advanced tracking skills LOL I didn’t need GPS to find my way back. I did notice the standard black-n-white of a patrol car as I walked past the shops on Broadway. Don’t know why I was surprised they had a local police force. The cruiser passed me for about the fifth time as I reached the house. Just because they were being such dicks, I smiled and waved as I unlocked the front door. It was time for me to see how much homework I could dig through.  
***  
The rest-stop on highway 150 was still deserted at this hour. That was its chief recommendation. The other was its absolute desolation. Beyond the few struggling sycamores, and the faux adobe restrooms, there was nothing but overgrazed pasture. A chipmunk couldn’t find cover here. The morning was still chill as my Camaro’s engine roared to life. The meeting with Chris Argent had not been comforting.  
Two hours later, Stiles texted me “We have a problem” that did nothing to improve my mood. We have no allies and my pack isn’t strong enough to fight the Argents, even with the losses they’ve taken. I had to get half-way through that first-cup before I could bring myself to text him back. “What sort of problem?”  
“Scott says we have new werewolves in town.” That confirmed Argent’s information. But if Scott had already identified this kid, maybe we were one step ahead of the hunters. I checked the text again werewolves not werewolf. Knowing Stiles, that was not a careless mistake. God hates me.  
Lover’s Leap has a spectacular view of town and valley. The founders had cleared most of the original forest for pasture and farming. In Mom’s time, those farms had been abandoned. Since then, forest had reclaimed the valley, most days Beacon Hills looks like somebody spilled brightly colored children’s blocks across dark green velvet.  
This bluff also has the advantage of being private and impossible to approach without being seen. My pack gathered, Scott was still clinging to his independence, but he came, reeking of indecision. I could guess, but it was more fun to torture him. “Are you done being a Hunter’s lap-dog?”  
Scott hung his head, but it wasn’t shame. He refuses to admit that Allyson is doing to him what Kate did to me. Stiles grimaced at me. My mate had probably spent an hour talking Scott into coming. It mattered, but I had to play my part in showing Scott his mistake. My only alternative was to drive him out of my territory. Most Alphas would have killed him already.  
“Werewolves, plural? Who are they and where did you see them?”  
Erica smirked at Scott’s discomfort before filling in the details. “Three of them, all True-Born, twin brothers and a minx with red hair.”  
That did not match what Argent had told me. “True-Born? Where is their pack?”  
Erica’s saucy grin faded. “These three are foster kids, and the girl is not related to the brothers.” It contradicted what I had told them about pack life. Your pack would stand by you. They would defend your family like it was theirs. Your pack had your back no matter what.  
But the human world isn’t interested in the way we do things, even if we could explain. Laura took me to New York because the county didn’t think an 18-year-old woman was a fit guardian for a teenage boy. Something similar could have happened again. In fact, given the ferocity of Gerard’s program of genocide, it was a pretty sure thing. How orphan cubs ended up here that was another story.  
“You missed one,” Jackson snapped. Six heads swiveled in his direction. It pained him to contribute; we still aren’t sure why his transformation failed, but it was a never ending source of friction. I didn’t really feel sorry for him. Jackson had attempted blackmail to acquire a werewolf’s powers. That backfired horribly, people died because he was seeking an advantage. While mostly his fault, I share some of the blame, and so does Scott. Werewolf powers or not Jackson’s fate is bound to ours. So, if he resents being part of my pack, it’s on him.  
“There is a fourth, also foster kid, but he was bitten, name is Taylor. I’m guessing he hasn’t felt his first Full-Moon yet.”  
Stiles figured it out first. “Shit! Our agreement with the Hunters. . . ”  
“Is in jeopardy,” I finished his sentence. “If these new wolves attack anyone, the Hunters won’t even ask questions.”  
Vernon growled. “They will die trying.”  
Vernon is my strongest beta; he doesn’t have any axes to grind, and I love him like the brother he is, but thinking is not his strength.  
Stiles asked the important question. “Why are four teenage werewolves arriving here within a few days of each other? And why are they all orphans?” My mate is the best.  
Before they could start squabbling, I interjected “We don’t know yet. However, the Hunters know about Taylor. Or they know about a teenager that was recently bitten, and then relocated here.”  
I had been suspicious when Chris freely offered information. Nothing was ever straightforward with him, and this was more proof. Uncle Peter has fewer twists in his soul than Christopher Argent. I don’t have a handle on this. It was too much to hope any of us did. “If Taylor is the kid they are looking for, we need to get close to him without tipping off the hunters. The other three will have control of their powers. Let them approach you, clue them in about the Argents if that happens. For anything else, they can talk to me, and don’t assume we have a full head count. If their pack had any other survivors, those wolves will be trying to find their cubs.”  
Stiles asked me. “You think this has anything to do with the Alphas?”  
“The Alpha-pack doesn’t normally bother with betas except to kill them.” It was an important reminder. The Alpha pack did not leave survivors. I let that hang there for a minute before going on.  
“Jackson, why do you think he is newly turned?”  
“I can smell the wolf in him, but it is only coming through sometimes other times he smells like a sick human. That, and the way he connected with Danny.”  
I wasn’t happy with Jackson’s answer. “Your nose is not the best. And what does Danny have to do with it?”  
“Danny is like Stiles. He smells like Pack but he isn’t. Even if he doesn’t know it, wolf scent will attract him. He was acting weird all day. The minute he set eyes on the new kid, he was like a blood-hound. They were practically smelling each other’s butts.”  
Scott and Erica giggled nervously and Stiles looked like he wanted to be offended. Jackson has a talent or maybe a curse for wording things in a way that will piss people off. Unfortunately, there were more important things to worry about.  
“Whatever. According to Argent, this kid was bitten by an omega. Normally an omega kills and eats their victim. It’s rare for someone to be turned by an omega’s bite, but not impossible. We need to corral this kid before he hurts someone, and we need to keep an eye out for the omega. If he is trying to build a pack, he will be tracking the kid.”  
I was getting dumb looks from everyone. A little education was in order. “The Argents have a zero tolerance policy for new packs. The Hale Pack has been here for centuries. Our agreement with the Argents doesn’t allow us to make new wolves, but we can recruit these cubs and any survivors following them,” strictly speaking, this was within the bound’s of the oath Chris had sworn with me to protect his only child. Chris and Allyson were the last living Argents. Stiles and Deaton had found an oath that had magical-teeth. Argent was willing to bind his soul and his seed to preserve her life and his heritage.  
Scott was looking unhappy, big surprise. Erica, Isaac, and Vernon positively gleeful, more wolves meant we would be stronger. None of them understood why this was dangerous.  
“But, that means when the omega shows up, we have to kill him.”  
That sobered everybody. We’ve been through a lot but none of my wolves has actually killed a person unless you count Jackson’s experience as a Kanima and I don’t. Tried to, yes, succeeded, no, and that had to change. Those failures seeded doubt and hesitation. We are predators and we are warriors. That is the nature of being a werewolf. Once we were a gentle people, killing only what we needed to feed our packs, but that was a long time ago.  
Stiles asked the important question. “Who sent them here and why?”  
I didn’t have an answer for that. Hunters have a deep network. It wasn’t impossible that they somehow identified these kids, and sent them here to be collateral damage in the Alpha pack’s bid to recruit me. Impossible no, but it did not seem likely either.  
***  
Friday, and Danny had invited me to watch practice. I couldn’t believe my luck. I didn’t expect it to last, but Danny likes me enough that he offered to teach me lacrosse. I had barely heard of this game, but it’s the big thing here. Football, that’s for the kids from the trailer-park. It’s pretty obvious a Lacrosse letter was the badge of the in-crowd.  
I know which side of the tracks I am from, and Danny’s car says he is out of my league. But maybe the gay thing is a social leveller. The guy Danny should be dating; is sleeping with the prom queen. I believe Jackson is Danny’s BFF like I believe in the parting of the Red Sea. Not impossible, but imagination has limits.  
Jackson makes me nervous, literally. The guy is nothing but beef. He’s the kind that gets what he wants and God help you, if you’re in the way. We are not going to get along. I know that already, I don’t care what you think you are entitled to. There’s a difference between taking a beating and catching a bullet. On that scale, a guy like Jackson is nothing but a pussy.  
No. We are not going to be friends. Sometimes I feel myself cringe when I hear his voice, other times I want to rip off his head. Fucking weird! He isn’t going out of his way to mess with me, but he isn’t trying to be nice either. Two weeks since I moved to Beacon Hills, and he still looks at me like he is waiting for me to sprout horns.  
Watching the team practice was a shock. These guys are not running a ball from one end of the field to the other. You could say it’s about agility, and thinking on your feet. You can talk about strategy and teamwork. Danny says the Indians called this game the Little Brother of War. I can see why. I want to be able to move like that. I want skills like that. I want . . .  
We were supposed to practice passing after training ends. The whistle blows and I feel like I am going vibrate off my seat. So restless, I just need to move, try stretching and jogging in place. It’s not enough. Danny is locked into some strategy talk at the far end of the field. I can hear them easy. The co-captains are bending his ear right off. And both of them are looking at me while they do it. Message received. They don’t want me on their field and they are tying him up until it’s too dark for us to practice. After that sinks in, there is no point in staying, the sun isn’t all the way down but the moon has already risen full and fat. A good run will probably calm me down. There is a jogging trail that runs around the back of town clear to the Parr’s house.  
I do a warm-up lap around the field; then take-off. Danny yells my name, but I pretend not to hear. There is an old orchard behind the athletic field, the cross-country team’s trail starts there. It’s just a few minutes until I am running through the forest.  
Once I know no one can watch, I really let go. The ground flies by almost faster than I can see. The shadows don’t bother me at all. It was yesterday, Danny and I had gone for a run. Ten minutes into it he called for a breather.  
“Dude, you didn’t tell me you were competition quality.” I was totally confused for like ten seconds, before I realized we had covered at least two miles already. Danny was soaked in sweat, and shaking. How did I run the legs right off the star athlete?  
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” And I was, but how was I going to explain? I didn’t understand it myself.  
“You said you’ve never been jogging before.”  
“Well, not for exercise. I mean, you only run if somebody’s chasing you.” Danny would have laughed if he’d any breath for it. Instead he coughed until he was bright red. That was when he said I should join the team.  
That wasn’t going to happen now. They didn’t want me. It wasn’t a new feeling. How many foster homes had I been in? How many men had mom brought home, only to have them leave when they found out she had a kid? The team did not want me and pretty soon Danny wouldn’t either. And the ground flew by.  
***  
What the fuck. Why were Jackson and Scott yakking like this? We had already gone over the strategy for tomorrow’s game. Carmel’s Lions are a decent team but we’re better. I could see Taylor was getting restless. He has a shit load of homework and I was wasting his time. He did a lap around the field and I tried to wrap this up. Jackson had put his hand on my shoulder, when I tried to shrug it off he tightened his grip on my pads. Then Taylor took off.  
“Taylor!”  
I spun out from under Jackson’s hand, but Scott was standing in my way arms spread out. “No!”  
“Let him go, Danny.”  
What the hell. Okay, Jackson can be a douche, but Scott’s actually more like a happy puppy. Taylor had already vanished between the trees. Scott and Jackson were both blocking me from following. It was the amber flash of their eyes that reminded me they are werewolves and tonight is the full moon. I backed up a step, and wondered if I was about to be offered the bite. It was something I had wondered about, but neither of these guys are very happy with their status. Still, something had to be up.  
“Dude, what the fuck?”  
Scott looked up at the sky, then his gaze fixed onto mine while that amber glow flickered ghost-like around the iris of his eyes. The resemblance to emergency hazard lights at an accident site was uncanny. “Taylor is a werewolf.”  
***  
Pine and cedar wove a roof over the trail, darts of moonlight caught at the early rags of rising mist. I could have gone back to the house. I should have. The Parrs wouldn’t be happy with a kid that was running around after dark. But my heart was pounding, my eyes were burning, and I desperately did not want to explain why. A branch of the trail went up hill behind town. Pretty soon I was out of the trees, running across open grassland. The moon was bright as day up here, there were smells, not just grass and pollen picked-up on the breeze but animals, and other things I couldn’t name. Suddenly, I wanted to know that. I wanted to know what these smells were; what they meant.  
My run slowed to a trot. I’m a city boy. The sum total of my experience consists of urban parks and vacant lots full of weeds. It stood to reason there would be lots of things in the country I wouldn’t recognize. Books talked about that kind of thing, but this . . . This was something different.  
I heard a motor. No it was two, big, heavy, four-wheel-drive things, and coming fast. The kinds of guys that go four-wheeling off road in the dark are not the kind of people you want to meet by accident. I sped off for the tree line. I was almost to the trees when a search-light caught me. The angry buzz skipping past my ear was followed by the crack of a rifle.  
I dropped and rolled the last dozen feet, then scrambled deeper into the trees. It wasn’t just search-lights, little red laser points darted across the surface of trees and brush. What kind of effed-up movie had I woken up in? There was no shouting or drunken yodeling, these guys were for real. Any idea they had mistaken me for a deer went out the window while I watched the laser sights flash on leaves and tree trunks.  
A hand snapped out of deeper shadow, grabbed my collar and dragged me down into darker shadows. I didn’t even squeak I was so scared. There was this guy, with his hand fisted in my shirt, crouched nose to nose with me. We were kneeling in the bottom of a narrow ravine, icy water soaking through my sneakers in a heartbeat. I had not even noticed this was here. One wrong step and I would have broken my neck. The guy had heavy black eyebrows and cheekbones that could make the wind bleed. His scowl swore me to silence. I wasn’t about to argue.  
Getting to his feet, he stayed crouched below the bank above us. The lights were throwing wild shadows overhead but they didn’t penetrate this deep into the tangle of brush. The dude backed away, and looked around. I don’t know what he thought he was going to see, but the alert angel of his head seemed to prove he wasn’t as clueless as I was. A nod summoned me to follow as he moved down stream. Getting away from crazies with guns and search-lights seemed like a good idea.  
We followed the water until it met a wider flow then we went uphill following that. Pretty soon the banks flattened out and we were walking between big trees. He hadn’t said a word yet. That bothered me less than it should.  
I smelled the iron tang of fresh blood a split second before my guide stopped in his tracks. Other scents followed, tree sap, bruised bark, disturbed leaf mold, and the acidic tang of gunpowder. My rescuer’s eyes scanned the forest’s shadows, following his gaze I spotted the body and beyond that a shattered rifle.  
Jackson had texted me the kid’s location and promised to stall long enough for me to get there. To our best guess this was the first full moon since Taylor had been bitten. He had not died or gone crazy from the bite. According to Danny he was strong and healthy without any obvious scars; that left one likely outcome. I had run ahead, leaving enough of my scent on the trail to draw him away from the town. He wouldn’t know what he was following but his wolf would smell alpha and pursue that before everything else.  
It was only a chance shift in the wind that warned me about wolfsbane and cordite. I was about to go back for him when Taylor changed directions and headed for the treeline. Even human ears would recognize the sound of four-wheel trucks powering up the ridge at speed. He couldn’t know how dangerous this was but I had to give him credit for not standing like a deer in the headlights. The crack of a high-powered rifle made me flinch as I dove for cover.  
Even knowing this area well, it took me a few minutes to get to the kid. What he couldn’t see was the B-frequency of UV in the search-lights that hunters used to stun a werewolf. I lunged across the fourteen-foot space separating us and dragged him into cover just as that particular bit of technology reached his hiding place.  
Taylor was shivering in shock and reaction. I could see the little glimmer of amber creeping in the edges of his eyes. His wolf was gathering strength for its first change. We needed to be away from here. Scared as he was, Taylor didn’t freak out when I grabbed him or when I got in his face. We had never met before. My wolf needed to get his scent. I was tempted to mark him then and there but thought he might freak out if I did.  
He was slim, dark; the shaggy mop hanging over his eyes reminded me of Scott. Letting go of his shirt, I waited to see if he would bolt. When he held his ground, I turned and headed for what I hoped was safety, he followed. I was a little jealous, none of the teens I had turned were this sensible. Chris Argent was going to have some explaining to do. The boy had done nothing to violate our truce. There was no good reason hunters should be gunning for him. That conversation was going to have to wait. I could hear the trucks still moving on top of the ridge. Unfortunately that did not mean we were safe here. If they were any good, the trucks had been to drive us toward snipers in the tree line.  
Ten minutes later I found one of those snipers. Sprawled like a broken doll in the dirt and leaves. His gun lay beside him shattered like a cheap toy. I didn’t recognize the scent on him. Maybe one of the orphans had done the deed?  
Roaring V-8 engines abruptly stuttered and stilled. That was followed by a hollow whump that pelted us with leaves and dust dislodged from the forest by a shock wave. Screams, followed by a second explosion, were proof we had allies in the dark. Stiles taught me about accepting unexpected help. I am not good at it and never graceful, but when the divine gives me a favor, I don’t complain.  
Taylor was frozen in shock right behind me. Well, human hearing would have understood what happened. He looked frightened as he had every right to. The dead hunter was in plain sight. Someone had tried to kill Taylor and died for the attempt. That’s not the best possible introduction to being part of a pack, but it’s not the worst either.  
“Are you hurt?” He didn’t answer, just crouched low to the ground shaking like he was about to come apart. Then his eyes blazed full amber. Taylor fell onto his side writhing as the shock of his first change took over. There was no helping it; the moon was full and the tide of blood would not be denied. I shucked out of my clothes and shifted into my alpha form.  
We were not alone. My pack had been shadowing us. Now they emerged from the trees, four pairs of golden eyes, tongues lolling, waiting to meet our new brother. With them came four more, blue-eyed like huskies. The strangers had come to join us.  
***  
I ached like an old man. The warmth surrounding me grumbled. Eyes cracked against the grey light of morning, had I forgotten to draw the blinds? Instead of eggshell white walls I was greeted by dark green branches arching overhead. The warmth surrounding me was not cotton sheets but the bare skin of bodies.  
“You’re not dreaming.”  
The guy from last night squatted on a fallen tree a few feet away. He was naked too. Black hair snarled with dead leaves, olive skin sliding over the kind of muscles world-class athletes dreamed about. Someone’s arm slid around my shoulders.  
“Good morning, brother.” Todd kissed my cheek. A long lick traced my thigh. Matt’s face smiled happily where it lay on my leg. More murmurs and gentle caresses followed. I was practically buried in a pile of naked teenage flesh. I didn’t know whether to scream in horror or cum.  
“So that was real?”  
I was waiting when Taylor woke-up and could appreciate the kid’s confusion. He had predictably been terrified by his first change. We had herded him deeper into the forest to places where men could never go. Run him to exhaustion then gathered round so he could know all of us. I remembered nights like this as a cub. There had been too many years when I believed I would never have that again.  
“It was real. Your memories might seem strange. The wolf sees the world very differently. You will get used to it, but you can always ask us.”  
This kid was surprising me. His expression was so open you could practically read his thoughts as they occurred to him. So far he had responded to every threat or potential danger with open consideration. He didn’t freeze or freak-out, he examined and then he chose.  
Scott stood up. “We should go, our parents will be worried.”  
“Sit down. Allyson can wait for your report.” Scott paled at Erica’s accusation. I was so glad I had not had to say that. But there were things I did have to say and there were questions that needed to be asked.  
“A little heads-up for all the newcomers. Scott’s girlfriend belongs to a werewolf Hunting Clan. He would never deliberately betray us, but his judgment is questionable.”  
Scott flushed and stiffened. There was no bending his pride. That didn’t mean I couldn’t torment him about it. Better me than guilt for some tragedy he caused. “Do you want to argue the point Scott, you do remember Victoria? Gerard? Kate?”  
He sat down.  
“Also, there were hunters up on the ridge gunning for Taylor last night. The Argents have a truce with this pack. Since they alerted me to Taylor’s presence, I doubt it was them. Does anybody know something I don’t?”  
Our surprise guest raised her hand. A dark and dusky brunet, she was taller than me and had shoulders like a line-backer. Physically powerful and super-model gorgeous, I guessed she was my age but I could be wrong.  
“They belong to the Kraken Clan. The only reason they aren’t at war with the Argents is because both would rather kill werewolves.”  
That was interesting. “So why are they here?”  
“That’s easy; they want to keep the war between the Hales and Argents going and then clean up the pieces.”  
Chris was better at this game than I gave him credit for, or maybe it was not him pulling the strings. It was worth thinking about, and worth talking to Deaton.  
“So Scott you have something useful to do after all.” That was from Erica. She was even less happy about his relationship with Allyson than I was, if for different reasons. But I had four lone wolves wanting to join my Pack and I needed to know why.  
I started with the adult. I had gotten their names at the end of last night’s run but let the stories wait until we were all had human speech and understanding. “Serena, what are you doing here?”  
“My alpha sent me. There is a rogue pack moving this direction. She thought you might need some help.” That came with a smile as sweet as spring sunshine. It would do for now.  
The Euri was a true carrot-top and looked like she would break in a stiff breeze. She had tested me last night. It wasn’t a serious challenge, but I had reason to know she was strong and rapier-deadly. Now she volunteered information.  
“Gerard did a lot of damage before you stopped him. Unfortunately he was the tool, not the author; maybe they decided Kraken is a better hammer.”  
That begged the question. “Euri, who was behind Gerard?”  
“We didn’t know. It was just speculation; for years he only went after omegas or the newly turned. Then last year he wiped out three established packs without warning or cause.” She looked around her with sheer loathing. “I understand why you have to depend on the Turned for your strength but I doubt it will help you in the long run,” that comment made her a lot less appealing. There are packs that will not accept any but a true-born werewolf and a few that would kill anything else if it entered their territory.  
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness but this might not be the right fit for you.” Her look of contempt was instantly replaced by fear.  
“You’ve accepted me. You can’t turn me out now.”  
“No . . . No, I haven’t, and yes I can. Give me a reason and I will. I have been fooled by a pretty face before. Let’s try not to repeat that experience. Besides, if my pack isn’t strong enough to for you, don’t you think you should look for one that suits you better?”  
I already knew the answer. She was too young and looked too young to be on her own. Human predators were dangerous enough, but there are supernatural predators, too. Her best bet was to hide in plain sight. Pretend to be a pretty teenage girl until she grew into her own strength or found a pack that wanted her. Both could be done in Beacon Hills.  
Two unmated True-born females deposited in my territory; that was suspicious in itself. Her reminder that Gerard was a puppet applied equally to all of them. I didn’t have the connections to collect orphan werewolves even if I had known they existed. I was oddly comforted that whoever was manipulating events apparently did not know about Stiles. Keeping that a secret might be all the advantage we had for now.  
“And you two?” Twin cubs are almost mythical; it’s hard to believe they had been deposited here by chance.  
Matt heaved himself to sitting position, still effectively pinning Taylor’s legs. But it was Todd that answered. “Gerard came through our territory three months ago. He missed us and one other. Larry was our body guard while we were surfing in Mexico. The police pretended it was a drug-cartel massacre. Larry got us out of Mexico before Gerard could finish us off, but we were detained by Border-control and turned over to the County. Larry tried to stand guardian for us, but the Court wasn’t having it.”  
The True-born have better control of their bodies. They can mask the physical reactions that would indicate a lie; young as these two were that was unlikely, but something was not right. “Where is Larry now?”  
Matt turned to Taylor instead. “We are so sorry. We had no idea what he was planning to do.”  
Taylor’s eyes widened a flicker of amber betraying his distress. “Larry? You know Larry, how?”  
“Did I wake up in a Gothic novel?” Erica’s complaint was more of a snivel. But there was the link between these four. I took a deep breath watching tension ripple through the assembled werewolves. I wished Stiles was here, he was so much better at this than me. My mate would see connections everyone else would swear weren’t there. As soon as we got back to town I was going to fill him in on the details. Now I needed as much of the story as I could get.  
I had five potential recruits to accept or reject. Right now I was inclined to accept Taylor, though I could feel the twins worming their way into our pack bond. They had lived their whole lives within a pack. I have firsthand knowledge about how terrifying it is to lose that sense of security. “Taylor? How do you know this Larry?”  
“He was my mom’s boyfriend.” And that just fucked my simple plan all to hell. Larry was not some omega gone rogue. He was part of a pack decimated by the Argents just like mine. He had two cubs to provide for, and set out to do it the same way Peter had, the same way I had.  
“Is he an alpha?”  
Matt looked stricken as he realized what I was asking. “Not yet.”


	2. Run

I didn’t feel nearly as bad as I should have after running all night in the forest. Sunlight was just starting to spill over the hills behind town when I opened the front door. 

“You were up early.” Mrs. Parr . . . eh . . . Elizabeth was smiling contentedly from the kitchen when I walked in. Coffee was brewing and the stack of pancakes she was making was already impressive. 

Mr. Parr looked up from his morning paper, brow furrowed. “Did you go for a run?”

I was still wearing my athletic gear from the previous day. Thank God Derek had retrieved my clothes from the woods.  
I had been spent most of my walk trying to figure out a story explaining why I didn’t come home last night, why I didn’t call, why I should not be shipped off to Juvie as an out-of-control teenage menace. This was a relief. Really, it was too much to ask for. The Parrs barely knew me. Foster parents are usually paranoid. Of course that would go to hell if I didn’t answer.

“Yeah a run. Hope I didn’t wake you. Danny says I might make the lacrosse team if I get my endurance up.” 

“Danny?” Mrs. Parr said the name with that inflection grown-ups get when they think you are doing something wrong. 

I wasn’t sure why that would bother her more than not seeing my face for almost twenty-four hours. “Yeah, he’s the team goalie.”

Mr. Parr’s voice rumbled. “He’s quite a bit older than you. I’m not sure you should be spending time with the Mahealani boy.”  
Okay, they knew Danny by name which kind of surprised me, but maybe it shouldn’t. If they had a problem with Danny, I should find out what it was. 

“Yeah, he is two years older. But the school is not so big they can pass over a good athlete.” That was a stretch; I’ve never been more than middling talent when it comes to sports, but that was about to change. Scott had been asthmatic, and Erica had struggled with epilepsy before they were bitten. The werewolf thing had cured them. The enhanced sense of smell, and hearing were only part of the change. I had already discovered my speed and endurance were greater.   
Derek had cautioned me about not showing off. There were humans that had made it their mission in life to wipe out supernatural beings. If I effed-up and they guessed I wasn’t human, they would kill me. So, Scott, Isaac and Jackson were on the lacrosse team. They were supposed help me learn how to play without giving myself away. 

Mr. Parr/Phillip put down his newspaper. “We’re not saying you shouldn’t try out for the team. It’s just Danny is older, and he got into some trouble a while back, and . . . well . . . he hangs around with men that are much older than you. We wouldn’t want you to get mixed up in something ugly.” Phillip seemed embarrassed; clearly he was treading some kind of line. I didn’t have to think very hard about that. 

“Oh, that. Don’t worry. I just want to get on the team. I’m not going to go partying with him or anything. I’m lucky if seniors even talk to me.” I didn’t think I should mention that Danny and Vernon were the only other non-white students at Beacon Hills High. People that pretend to be ‘color-blind’ don’t like it much when you don’t toe that line with them. 

They didn’t look convinced, which kinda worried me. “Is there something I should know about?” 

The Parrs exchanged a look I couldn’t read. Mrs. Parr’s voice was almost sugary. “We know high school is rough, more so when you’ve been bounced around so much. We want you to be happy here, you deserve that, but the man that attacked you is still on the loose. The police will catch him eventually, but be smart. Make friends your own age and stay out of places you don’t belong.” 

As a ‘parental edict’ it was crystal. “Yes ma’am. High school stuff only, got it.”

“Good boy. Now wash-up and change. I need to take you shopping.” 

Under the hot water my brain ran riot. I was a werewolf. A fucking howl at the moon and eat people kind of werewolf; the real deal. That was more than enough to process. I had thought maybe I was losing my mind or had cancer or something. One of mom’s friends had talked about how everything smelled and tasted different after she got sick.   
Mom’s boyfriend Larry was a werewolf too. It didn’t make sense, but it kind of did. Sometimes I had wondered if he was queer for me. It seemed like he was with Mom so he could hang out with me, it wasn’t creepy. I mean, I liked Larry.  
Most guys don’t want an instant family. If they want kids at all, they want their own. The older I got the harder it was on mom. It is one thing if you are little and cute, but it is harder to ignore, that your woman has been with another man when his teenage son is underfoot.  
My mom, she doesn’t have the best taste in men and she doesn’t have the best judgment. I only need to start school before the county got wise and snatched me. I don’t remember how many times she has been in and out of rehab. It never sticks anyway. Larry was good for her; they were going to get married. Then we could be a family again. At least that was the plan.   
My memory is still scrambled. Larry never had a dog, and there was no way he would turn a vicious dog on me. But that was what the doctors thought, and that was what they told the cops. Derek had quizzed me about the attack and I was still trying to sort out the images. Larry had been seriously upset about something, but he wasn’t mad at me. He kept saying that he was sorry.   
Derek was worried. He thought Larry might show up and try to recruit me for his pack. Matt and Todd’s parents had been part of Larry’s pack before they were murdered. I didn’t understand all of it. Derek was an Alpha. That gave him a kind of power over betas like me. Larry was a beta so he couldn’t force me against my will. I mean, if he asked nicely, I probably would go with him. He cared about me and everything but then, why did he bite me?   
Derek was no gushing fountain of positive reinforcement but he had led me away from town when I might have hurt somebody. He had risked his life getting me away from the hunters, introduced me to his pack, and generally gone out of his way to keep me alive. Yeah, he wanted to keep the truce he had with the Argents. Yeah, he thought I would make a good addition to his pack, but I was pretty sure I did not understand everything. From the sound of things none of the werewolves did, and they were worried about that. Matt, Todd, and Euri had ended up in county care and as wards of the court; from the pack’s conversation, that was strange. That all four of us had been shipped up to Beacon Hills where a pack of new-fledged teenage werewolves was struggling to survive, that was just crazy. But if Derek and the others couldn’t figure it out, I wasn’t going to get anywhere just running hot water over my head.   
I thought Mrs. Parr’s shopping trip would be about me carrying packages or loading groceries. I also thought I would have until Monday morning before I had to deal with any of this werewolf stuff. I was wrong. Isaac was running the register at the local Foot Locker and Mrs. Parr wanted me to have good running shoes. Mostly I just wear flip-flops, they’re cheap, and California winter never requires more than a pair of sneakers.  
Now that I understood I wasn’t crazy or sick, the things I smelled made sense. Mrs. Parr was faintly anxious but determined to impose normality by sheer force of will until things were in fact normal. Isaac was startled when we walked in but he didn’t freak out or anything. 

“Hi Taylor, is this your girlfriend?” The horror; the very last thing I wanted was for Mrs. Parr to think I was scheming on her. Isaac smirked at me, the fucker. 

“I am his guardian.” Her response was little stiff and she was frowning. It was cool that she said she was my guardian. It sounds classier than foster-mother. 

“Oh… Hi Isaac, I didn’t know you had a job.” It made sense; he was another orphan. I don’t have his whole story but he has foster parents, too. If the Parrs were worried about me hanging out with Danny they were definitely going to wonder how I knew Isaac. 

“Isaac, this is Mrs. Parr.” The Parr’s insisted I should use their first names but it was still uncomfortable. “Elizabeth, this is Isaac, he plays midfield on the lacrosse team.” 

She finally smiled. “Oh, very good, you are the right person to help us get Taylor some decent shoes. He wants to join the team and his trainers are going to pieces.” 

“That’s going to be good. We need new blood; Finstock is already freaking out that everybody on his first-string is graduating. I’ve seen Taylor during gym class. He’s pretty fast. We can train him up this season, and next year he will be ready for first line.”

Such a glowing recommendation freaked me out a little bit. I had never set eyes on Isaac until today. I mean maybe he had been watching, Derek said they had been keeping an eye on me since I arrived. 

“He’s going to need several things right away, but the cleats can wait if you don’t want to spend too much right now.” 

“That’s very sensible.” She sat down in one of the more comfortable chairs, spending a moment to smooth her skirt. 

Cleats? The county didn’t budget for sports gear. Well, I wasn’t sure what county I was in now; maybe they had different rules here.   
Isaac’s heart beat had slowed back down to normal. Obviously neither of us had expected to meet here. His pulse slowed down, but as he walked over to a rack of jerseys and other sports clothes running a commentary on what I would need, Mrs. Parr’s heart quickened just a little. I looked over to see if the expense was bothering her. Those pale blue eyes were focused on Isaac’s butt. Oh Jesus, ewh! I could scent her pleasure at his flattery. Isaac is taller than most men with incredibly long arms and wide shoulders. He even had a little curl of chest hair spilling out of the collar of his shirt. 

I got a sense of bubbling amusement from Isaac. It wasn’t scent, or super hearing, more like a feeling and one that was distinctly him. Derek and Serena had described the pack-bond this morning; it was a way for us to sense each other more deeply than words could describe. Was this it? Maybe Isaac could read me and my foster-mother with werewolf senses, but what I was getting from him was emotion. It was kind of cool to know he found the whole thing funny, but shouldn’t I be bonding with Derek before I did with anybody else in the pack? As if on cue I got strong feeling of anxiety that reeked of the Alpha. He was worried, really worried. He was too young for this responsibility. His betas were too young and inexperienced to take on the dangers confronting them. It was wordless, but I attached words to what I was getting the same way I would to my own feelings. 

It was an insight into Derek that I would never have guessed at. He cared about his betas, he cared about me. Not because we were something he needed. Derek cared because it was his job to keep us safe. Isaac looked over his shoulder at me with a twisted painful smile. Were his eyes that shiny before, oh my god, were those tears? Another pulse of feeling, pride, Isaac was proud of his alpha. The feeling was not familiar, but I had no problem recognizing it.   
I might not know Isaac’s story but he was in this pack to support the alpha that put his life and heart on the line to keep his betas safe. Could I do less?   
***  
Jackson had been pissed when I canceled our regular jog in favor of taking Taylor on a run. If my motives were less than pure, I wasn’t operating in ignorance. After the Kanima trouble, Stiles had given me some of the story. Werewolves were real. Scott had been bitten by a rogue Alpha and turned into a werewolf. Stiles, being Stiles and ridiculously loyal, had made it his job to help Scott with the transition instead of finding a deep hole to hide in like a sensible person. Derek was born a werewolf but not an Alpha. When the rogue murdered Derek’s sister, he had joined forces with Scott and Stiles to kill the rogue. Doing that he became an Alpha himself. 

All good enough; Scott was a victim of chance, Stiles was ridiculous, and Derek had been getting revenge for the murder of his sister, as it turned out by Derek’s uncle Peter. But then it got crazy. Jackson, who was always looking for an advantage, found out about werewolves. He harassed and threatened Scott and Stiles until Derek took pity on them and gave Jackson the bite. He figured that he could actually manage Jackson with his alpha powers, but Derek couldn’t control him or even beat Jackson in a fair fight. Unfortunately, someone had been controlling Jackson, and using him to commit murders. That was where my knowledge ended. Somehow they broke Jackson’s curse, defeated or eliminated his master. But no one told me what they had done or how. Derek was a werewolf, Scott was a werewolf, Jackson was not a werewolf, but he wasn’t exactly human anymore. Stiles was human, but some of the werewolf seemed to be rubbing off on him, too. Scott’s BFF quit playing the clown, his lacrosse game rose to match our best players, and he stopped mooning after Lydia. I think that might have been the biggest improvement. Nothing makes people as mean, as seeing their own weakness on public display. 

I guessed there had to be other werewolves somewhere, otherwise where did Derek and Peter come from? Jackson and Lydia let little things slip, so I figured there had to be more werewolves in Beacon Hills. I guess mythical beings have a right to their privacy. Jackson had poisoned me with his Kanima venom, but only after he took a swipe at the douche that had dumped me in the worst possible way. Anyway, since I had been a victim of their fuck-up, Stiles gave me enough of the story to process shit but not enough information that I would be a target for things hunting the supernatural. 

Now there was Taylor. I could see it in him. Barefoot, half naked, water streaming round his ribs as he ran. His wolf nature, mouth open, drinking the wind. He was different now; Taylor had been wiry before. I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off him all day. Still slim, his muscles shifted and stretched with a strength I couldn’t classify; at least not during those moments when I stopped staring at his butt. I’m an all-around kind of guy, but Taylor’s ass makes me a little crazy. We’ve done a bit more than kiss. My hands always end up there. I’m something of an expert on teenage ass, and Taylor was exceptional; taunt, round, and full, the skin so soft, covering muscle that flexed and strained under my fingers. I could barely contain my desire to go further. Right now the green nylon shorts were soaked through. Taylor’s glutes ground together in a way that made me want to tackle him from behind and fuck him right there on the muddy trail. No one would interrupt us out here.

I wasn’t sure if this was a werewolf thing or not. Scott always had a round perky tail and Jackson spent hours in the gym working on his body. Being bitten made them stronger, more muscular, but it also changed them in ways that were less attractive. Jackson was darker, more moody, and less predictable. Scott is more driven, a bit more desperate, and maybe even more selfish, but Taylor; Taylor was joyous. He was alive, free and untrammeled in a way none of the others were. Taylor was unbound by this transformation.  
Could I have that? If Derek gave me the bite, would I be oppressed, or would I finally be free? 

Jackson scowls every time I look at Taylor. Sometimes I see his eyes flicker yellow and every time that happens Scott puts himself between Taylor and Jackson. Finally I asked   
Scott: “What the hell is going on with Jackson?” 

“You know Jackson, he doesn’t like to share.” 

“He never cared before.” 

“I don’t think he ever believed you were in love before.” That had rocked me; in-love, with Taylor? Where did that come from? Did he mean Jackson thought I was in love with Taylor, or did Scott think I was in love? 

Somehow I had never asked myself what I felt. There would be problems if anybody else came to that conclusion. There was a problem now. “He won’t hurt Taylor?” 

Scott chuckled, “Dude, your face.” 

Jerk. This was serious. I’ve seen the wreckage that results when these guys lose their cool; the team locker-room had been almost destroyed once. “Scott, tell me Jackson is not going to have a melt-down and hurt Taylor.” 

Scott’s face sobered. “Not if I’m there, but you two need to have a talk. I am pretty sure Jackson is worrying about your safety, not what you were doing behind the bleachers two days ago.”

Fucking werewolf senses. It had been barely morning and there was nobody around. Taylor had confirmed that. Apparently just because the werewolves couldn’t see or hear us did not mean we wouldn’t be discovered. 

“Look. Taylor’s a good guy, but this is a rough time, if he hurt you . . . I don’t know if he could live with that.” It was maybe the sweetest least judgmental thing Scott had ever said about my love life. All through school everybody had figured Scott and Stiles were queer for each other. Once Allyson hooked up with him, Scott became a little bit of a douche about gay things. Honestly I could barely think of any guy in our school that was less attractive than Scott. But he was trying to be sensitive right now and I wasn’t going to punish him for it. 

“You think I should stay away from Taylor?” 

Duffus screwed up his face like he was thinking mighty thoughts. “Ideally yes; the hunters know there is a new werewolf in town. We’re trying to keep him off their radar.” Scott’s face twisted some more and this time it was fear. “Danny, they aren’t shy about killing our human families. Taylor might hurt you by accident. They will hurt you to get to him.”   
It was something to think about. Last year someone had beaten the snot out of Stiles. He would never say anything about it. If it was a school thing there was no way he could have kept that quiet, which meant it wasn’t about school, and it was about this supernatural stuff that I seemed to be orbiting. Scott wouldn’t be this freaked out about me, not even about Stiles, which meant. . .

“Oh dude . . . Your mom. They went after your mom?” I could practically feel the vibration as Scott ground his teeth. “They threatened to kill her if I wouldn’t betray Derek.” 

I didn’t need to guess who they were. There had been a string of holier-than-thou losers that had inflicted themselves on Beacon Hills lately and come to bad ends. But, you know, if you do a body count of the dead and missing, the outsiders are taking a lot more casualties. 

“The Argents,” I really want him to tell me I was wrong. I wanted Scott to say he wasn’t banging the enemy. 

He just shrugged. “We are taking a break right now. I think it might be permanent. But Derek’s right, my judgment is questionable.”

We were watching sixth period gym from the bleachers; Taylor was doing laps. Then for the first time in months Scott smiled that crazy beatific smile he has. “Yes, you should stay away, and I don’t believe for a minute that you can. He is one of us now. I don’t think you can resist him anymore than Stiles can stay away from Derek.” 

That upset my apple cart, Stiles and Derek? Scott blushed furiously. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.” 

I couldn’t let it go. “So . . . Speaking as a person that doesn’t share well, how are you with that?” 

Taylor looked in our direction, reminding me he had super senses. How much could he hear? Scott’s blush was fading and he had a determined look in his eye. “I can’t have my cake, and eat it too. Stiles, deserves someone who adores him. So do you.” 

I hate it when someone knows more about what’s going on with me than I do. I couldn’t think of anything snarky to respond with, because most of my brain was squealing like a little girl. Taylor adored me. 

We weren’t dating. It was too soon, and Taylor had already been put on notice by his foster-parents that I was not someone he should spend a lot of time with. I had been in such a rush to lose my virginity. The guy that took it was a bit of a creeper and I had regretted it almost immediately. But our team practiced six days a week, there were study sessions at Scott’s house or at Stiles’. Taylor didn’t share any of our classes but that didn’t mean we couldn’t help him with his homework. 

Taylor was in a rush, too. I love sex, but Stiles had told me something I should have suspected. A werewolf mates for life. The wolf heart does not mend after being broken. The first time I had seen him, he was so beautiful. Framed against the pale brick wall, his bronze skin glowed like something out of myth. He had delicate features and enormous hazel eyes. Sitting there by alone, trying not to look lonely or scared. When he accepted my hand it was like having a hummingbird perch on your finger, I was spellbound. So we practiced our game, and hung out with our friends. There was some discreet making-out in the back seat, and maybe some fondling behind a rosebush. 

This still wasn’t a date, but it was the first time we had planned for just us. No chaperones or excuses, Taylor had gone through his second full moon without trouble. I was still on the outside of the werewolf mysteries, so I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but there had been no bodies or missing people for weeks. That seemed to be a good sign. As we ran, lightning cracked overhead. 

A storm had boiled up out of nowhere, catching us by surprise. The trail was dim under heaving branches. Wind and water lashed, icy fingers sluicing shirtless torsos, and bare legs. Our running gear was soaked through. Taylor had lost one shoe crossing a stream, after a few hobbling steps he discarded the other. Barefoot, his speed seemed no worse. Sideways glances revealed he was worried about going too fast for me to keep up. It was kind of sweet, but I was majorly pissed. I had promised Taylor that we would have some alone time and this was what we got. 

We ran for town and shelter, for parents that would freak out, imagining gruesome ends to a child out in a storm. Never mind we were nearly grown. The forest around Beacon Hills is tame, a gentle bit of scenic wilderness holding nothing more dangerous than fox and badger. The monsters lived in town. 

Try telling that to a parent.

It bothered me that Taylor was trying to look out for me. I was the older, I should be protecting him. He’s never had that. His mom isn’t a monster; she never sold him for drugs or anything. She just wasn’t a very good person. He was used to being the brains. He was in the habit of keeping other people safe and trying to make them happy. It was fucked up. 

Scott warned me there was a hostile pack of werewolves sniffing around, so I should be extra careful around strangers. They were likely to target me and Stiles because we were the weakest. I guess he told Taylor the same thing. Taylor fussed; if I managed to slip away from our friends, he would turn up seemingly by chance. I didn’t mind too much. It wasn’t his company I was avoiding. 

Jackson has been my best friend since fourth grade. I bloodied the nose of the creep that was teasing him about being so pretty. In hindsight maybe that’s why I wanted to be friends. I mean, it was years later before I figured out that I liked boys, but yeah, Jackson’s enormous blues eyes, I used to stare at them for hours. Then he got with Lydia. It wasn’t the end of the world, but the first time he told me what a good blow job she gave. Well, I know when I’m being baited, and that was very nearly the end of our friendship.   
The Kanima thing though, he clawed me. I was paralyzed, helpless, lying on the club’s floor watching people die. I still have nightmares about it. Okay, he wasn’t in his right mind. Yes, he was under someone else’s control, but he asked for the bite. I never really got over that. He asked for the bite; he asked for it without telling me werewolves exist.   
Now there is this big gap where the supernatural stuff is. Maybe they aren’t his secrets to tell. I can’t imagine him thinking that. We used to tell each other everything; I used to pretend it was because Jackson trusted me. I know about Taylor because I was about to go jogging with him in the forest at night under a full moon. That falls under the ‘don’t do anything stupid clause’ of our friendship contract. Our dads are lawyers; of course we have a contract, anyway, Jackson cock-blocked me; which is a violation of contract amendment #14.

Cool thing about the ‘don’t do anything stupid clause’ is you have to explain how the action is stupid, in detail. Jogging under a full moon with a werewolf clearly falls under stupid things to do. Jogging with a sexy guy on a sunny spring morning; clearly that was acceptably ‘non-stupid’ unless you factor in remote back-country trails, and unpredictable extreme weather. 

Danny was keeping up. I wanted to go faster but we were miles out when the storm rolled in. It had been almost a perfect day. There had been a light mist in the woods, just enough to cool sweaty skin. Danny grew up here. He knows these trails. I had been happy to follow his lead. We ended up running along the ridge top. From here we could see the ocean, an endless blue sparkle that shimmered under a cloudless sky. Downhill, fog still drifted among the trees. Up on the ridge it was sunny and warm. Warm enough we both shed our shirts. Danny’s muscles slid under golden skin, drops of sweat winking in the clear light. I couldn’t help watching how they slid down the muscles of his back and disappeared, and I didn’t want to ignore my curiosity about what was under his white shorts. 

The first gust of cold wind caught both of us by surprise. We turned to look, and saw blue and purple thunder heads rolling our direction. Country living is different and that makes me cautious. The weather report promised the fog would burn off and a warm sunny day. It was enough for me to insist we should bring water bottles with us. Ha!  
Rain caught us just before we reached the trees. By the time we got to that cover we were already soaked. Danny decided we should head for home. The exercise would keep us warm. A barrage of hail tore leaves from the trees and stung like needles. We ran; I took the lead hoping my werewolf senses would warn us of anything bad.  
My new instincts startle me all the time. Today they had given me no warning at all. This storm was weird. My human mind wasn’t any happier than my wolfy side. Danny, on the other hand seemed more worried about our parents. The Parrs might gripe about the lost shoes, they might even get huffy about the company I was keeping, but they were not going to freak over me getting caught in a storm the weather report failed to predict. 

Danny could worry about his parents. I had just learned the supernatural world does exist, and this bore all the hallmarks of a B-horror movie. And yes, Danny had a red shirt. It was tucked into the waist of his running shorts, but still, ‘red shirts’. Note to self, go through Danny’s closet and toss everything red.   
I didn’t see what dropped out of the sky. I didn’t hear Danny scream. I didn’t see or hear anything.


	3. Iron Ladies

My ‘lady-friend’ sent me a message. The kestrel looked plump and well fed. The withy in its talons was scored seemingly at random but I recognized the Ogham script. The druids might have used knives and chisels to carve their words, but claws worked quite wonderfully. 

I’ve kept a low profile since the Alpha pack left their mark on Derek’s door. That doesn’t mean I am ignorant about what happens in Beacon Hills. I found a tiny abandoned trailer on a ridge top with a beautiful view of the Pacific. It was a wreck, the DEA had made an effort, but I have little to do with my time, it was too sweet a spot and perfect for my needs. If the owners ever come back, well I doubt anybody will miss them. The weed grown patch in front still had all the irrigation works in place. I spent a lot of time puttering with my herbs. Stiles has his granny-lore, it’s very practical stuff, protection from evil, finding lost items, healing the sick. 

The magic I study is considerably darker. Mandrake and dragon’s blood are some of the more common ingredients. The rest I have to produce myself. And then there are things I don’t want to bother with, like waffles smothered in clotted cream and strawberries. My nephew deserves a visit every once in a while, if only to enjoy his discomfort that I have not stayed quietly dead. His sassy little pet is another bright spot in my life. I check in on Lydia too, but discreetly. Stiles, is over the moon in love with my nephew but if he thought I was stalking to Lydia, he would find a way to end me for good. I don’t know how you kill the dead, but Stiles would find a way. 

So, yes I keep tabs on my pack. I know more or less, where the rogue Alphas are lurking, if not exactly what they are up to. I know about the other hunter clans that are testing Argent’s strength, and I know about the orphans. It’s a measure of Derek’s desperation that he asked me if I could find out anything. 

I made it my business to commit their scent to memory. When I arrived at her nest, my frustration was immediate. There was no moon tonight, and Laska has no need for lamps in her lair. Standing on the cave’s threshold I knew what had happened to our new addition. There had been traces of the boy’s scent up and down the canyon. Just random whiffs on the breeze, but that was enough, Derek was already spooked and acting like a mother-hen. Taylor had dropped out of the pack bond a few hours ago. There were normal reasons that could happen, sleeping but also clubbed unconscious, drugged, killed. 

It wouldn’t take Derek long to notice Danny was missing too. Possibilities would narrow to someone with an agenda. If his first guess was the Alpha-pack, it wouldn’t be his last. Laska and her clutch would be discovered by morning. I really didn’t want to watch that.

She came to greet me, iron feathers striking sparks from the stone floor. Harpies are devilishly hard to kill. Their feathers serve as both armor and wickedly sharp blades. Laska could cut me in half with only a twitch of her wings and she was not going to be happy with the news I brought her. 

Another quality of harpies, they aren’t very bright. They don’t have a Y-chromosome. Laska had done something rather clever choosing me as her mate. In ancient times they had bred with dragons by choice. More recently their options were limited to eagles and the largest of serpents. The problem was twofold. Their physical form is absolute and inherited from the Dam but intelligence and personality are inherited from the sire as genetic and ingested material. Yes, that’s right; when a clutch hatches the Dam feeds the sire to her hatchlings. 

We had an agreement; Laska would not feed me to our offspring. Having a harpy brood as allies would strengthen my pack’s position. I had not considered that Laska needed to feed her hatchlings a werewolf for the bargain to be complete. Clearly I wasn’t as smart as I thought. 

This was going to be tricky. Harpies have paralytic venom in their talons. The scent of that toxin permeated the boys. They were in no shape to assist in their rescue. 

“Peter, why the long face?” Starlight was enough for either of us to see clearly. Laska is lovely beyond words. Think Angelina Jolie only hotter, just not very bright. 

“Beloved. What have you done? These two are part of my pack, my tribe. They have been missed.” 

“They are the weakest. The weak must perish so the strong may live.”

Derek was going to skin me alive and roll me in salt. “They are cubs, fledglings not yet old enough to test. They must come with me now. My alpha will not tolerate this challenge to his authority.” 

“He is not your alpha. They are not your pack. You think to buy their favor with my strength, and you are not wise. Beloved, choose me, choose our daughters.” Okay, not bright did not mean stupid. 

In the ritual language of magic ‘beloved’ has no romantic meaning. It signifies carnal alliance. If I chose Derek it was a formal betrayal of my relationship with Laska and it would have consequences. I couldn’t fight her. I couldn’t fight him, and I couldn’t sit this one out. I was fucked. 

The air hummed, an upward glance showed a shadow blotting out the stars. Laska’s sister Beryl hovered above. She doesn’t like me much. That has less to do with good judgment and more to do with tradition. Two-leggeds, are prey not partners. 

If I doubted my ability to take Laska down, it was certain the pair of them would turn me into pâté. I was equally certain the Pack could take them and me. I did not really want to see that play out, either. 

“The hatchlings must be fed. If your pack makes this sacrifice both tribes benefit. Both are stronger.” She understood the benefits, it was logical. She did not understand the emotion. There is no love between a harpy and her offspring, only a loyalty of ‘kind’. I wanted this. I wanted Derek to trust me again, and I wanted my pack safe from challengers. With the Harpies we would be strong enough to send the last of the Argents straight to hell. And I wanted that more than anything. 

“How many days till hatching?” 

Laska’s head swiveled 100 degrees. It is disconcerting as well as totally birdlike. My experience with nests and egg hatching was non-existent but even my nose could tell our offspring where chaffing to enter the world. 

“Hours, not days my love.” My heart sank a little. The chance Derek and the pack would show up in time was vanishingly slim. When he found out what I had done, well, being torn to shreds was one of the more merciful options. 

The riffling breeze generated by Beryl suddenly gusted and changed direction. Laska and I both turned. Shivering down the wind a howl rolled over the stony slope. 

“Your pack, they are coming?” 

It was too much to hope for. As I let the air bring me news I felt a grin spread across my face. “Not my pack, no. Are you certain you want these cubs? What if I could give you an alpha for our brood?” 

***

I hadn’t met Peter before. In spite of the rescue, I would be happier if I hadn’t. His scent is erratic, musky cedar one moment, and putrid sour decay the next. Danny can’t scent him, but he doesn’t seem to like Derek’s uncle any better. 

We made up a story about being stranded by the storm and a flash flood for the parents. Unfortunately the ‘parents’ were collectively horrified that me and Danny had spent a half-naked night together. They flushed and turned pale by turns. It was a little gross seeing what they were thinking. We were both grounded for a week; unspoken was their determination to separate us. Danny’s parents had a go at him about the age gap, statutory rape and all that. No one seemed to believe us when we said nothing happened. I was still feeling the effect of harpy venom and Danny had to be feeling worse. It was a miracle we could talk at all; winning an argument, no chance. 

The Alpha Pack was now weaker than they had been. Derek looked unhappy with his uncle but the results were hard to fault. I saw the Alpha Peter traded for our lives. The harpies seemed to control him easy enough, but I didn’t think much of my chances against one. There were four Alphas left. We were ten, plus Lydia, Stiles, an unhappy alliance with the Argent clan, and a less certain one with the harpies. 

Now, I understood why Larry bit me, and why he asked me to forgive him. My half hope had been he wanted to be my step-dad; well that was kid stuff. Maybe he really liked me, and planned on offering me the bite when I was older. It didn’t really matter. When, he decided to become an Alpha. He took what he needed. He was sorry. Sorry I might die of it; sorry my life would never be mine to choose. There has never been anybody I could count on. Oh, I used to think so, but if you open your eyes, you see everybody has an agenda.   
How I feel is different, but feelings are not facts. Yeah, Peter rescued us, but that wasn’t for our benefit. He was cleaning up his mess. Danny? He’s hot, he likes me. Next year when he goes to college, will it be the same?


	4. Chapter 4

I let it go. Taylor wasn’t willing to rock the boat with his fosters and that was sensible. Jackson and Lydia wanted me out of any werewolf business and that was selfish. For a week I tried to talk myself around. I now had direct experience with how vulnerable I was against the supernatural. 

I let Taylor avoid me. I sat with my friends at lunch while he ate with the kids from L.A. on the other side of the cafeteria, with his back to me. Freshmen don’t mix with seniors. That is the rule. Freshmen are dumb, needy kids, and seniors are just a half-step short of adulthood. We don’t like being reminded of who we used to be. 

I’ve been waiting impatiently for this since I figured out my sexuality. No one thinks twice about boys and girls dating at any age but I was fenced in. I couldn’t even be friends with anybody male or female without all kinds of looks and speculation. If it was a guy, did I ‘like’ him? And if it was a girl, was she hot enough to change me? As long as Jackson and Lydia were dating, I was the gay best friend. If they broke up, my relationship with both of them was suspect. So, yes I wanted to be eighteen. I needed to be eighteen before I could go on a legit date, or have a boyfriend, it totally sucked. 

Now there was Taylor; he was three years younger and that should be a huge emotional gap. He came from the wrong side of the tracks. That should be like being from another planet. He was a freaking werewolf. That was the stuff of horror movies and bad romance novels. Absolutely no one was on our side, his foster parents, my parents, the pack they wanted us separated. It was all very sensible, logical, reasonable, and I hated it. I hated the excuses. It was all a crock of shit, because if we were the same age, class, or species it would just be a different set of reasons we shouldn’t be together, it wasn’t going to change when I was eighteen, or when I went away to college. Someone was always going to have a sensible reason to mess with my love-life. Everyone’s good intentions were nothing but bull shit, and I am not going to take it anymore. 

***

I’ve lived in Beacon Hills my whole life. When I was little, the forest was a magic place, full of fairies that turned into butterflies and trolls that turned into raccoons when I showed them to my parents. We wandered and explored for miles in all directions. After mom died, the forest became my refuge. It was where I went when I couldn’t be brave.   
Scott and I used to wander here too. It was our place when parents and teachers didn’t scold or worry; where other kids wouldn’t follow because they believed us when we said there were bears. I used to think I knew everything there was to know about this forest. 

Then Derek came back to our little town. I found out werewolves were real, and if werewolves, then what else? Deaton taught me a little magic, how to keep bad things away, how to keep my friends safe. Now when I walk in these woods, often as not, I find places that I never knew where here. I asked Derek about the waterfall that sings. He grew up here too. He’s part of that strange world that I had not known existed. I thought he might be able to explain. What I described frightened him. I know he just wants to protect me, and he was afraid that I would go somewhere he couldn’t find if I got into trouble. 

Derek asked me not to go there anymore. He asked, and I knew he wouldn’t believe me if I said yes. So, I asked him to come with me. I promised not to go there without him, it was enough. 

With all the trouble, with enemies stalking us at every turn, I wanted us to have a day we didn’t need to worry. This cave was the first place I found when I started walking the other ways. It’s kind of cozy, and very private. Now when we need some time, we come here. 

Derek ground his hips down on my spike. Inside he was all molten hot and silken convulsions. The only thing better than his insides clutching my cock was the way he looked riding me. Lips parted, nostrils flaring, head thrashing and body writhing in pleasure. I did this to him, I made him soft, vulnerable and needy, and it changed everything.   
He lifted himself a little bit and I rushed up to fill him again. Derek groaned as he dropped back down on me. His throat visibly vibrated as hips rocked and ratcheted seeking more sensation. Spine arched, chest and belly gleaming with sweat, I rolled up to meet him, mouth going to one taut bronze nipple and both hands gripping his ass, pulling the muscles apart so I could get deeper inside. Derek’s center convulsed around my root. He shrieked into my hair as my jizz scalded his tunnel. Against my belly he pulsed and spewed, sticky heat welding us together. 

My boi is a cum hound. I’m not complaining, not about that. Stiles had licked me clean and then taken a nap, his face pillowed on my stomach. A stray draft brought me unwelcome notice we were about to be visited. This little cave was one of our havens. Sex with Stiles tended to obliterate my attention for anything else. There were places in the forest where men could not normally go, pathways only open to those of magic. My mate doesn’t yet understand how rare a gift he has. These places are not completely safe, as our guest was about to prove. 

“How very tender; I would never have guessed you for the romantic sort.” Stiles jerked awake, one of his silver plated throwing knives already airborne. Peter hit the deck, self-preservation trumping fashion choice. The cave is mostly dry, except for that spot where the narrow entry allowed rainwater to collect. 

“Tsk. Was that necessary?” Peter’s neatly pressed khaki shirt was soaked and stained with red clay. I know I smirked. Stiles had rolled into a crouch, with a knife in either hand. 

“If you can’t be bothered to knock, you are not allowed to complain about your reception when you interrupt a tender moment.” My boi’s tone was casual, almost lazy. The gleam in his eyes was anything but. I have to give my mate credit, he is holding his own. Peter respects verbal style. I don’t usually bother. 

Peter’s wry smile was almost friendly. “I see your point. It won’t happen again.” 

Stiles did not relax. In fact, he was clearly building up a head of steam. His issues with my uncle were multiple with good cause. On the other hand, he had set Peter on fire a second time. Overall, I thought the two balanced each other out. 

“Peter . . . What’s so urgent that you felt the need to track us here?” I should not have been surprised my uncle can walk these ways on his own, but were our positions reversed, I doubt I could do it. 

“Yes, well . . . why don’t I give you two a minute; I think you will agree it was worth being disturbed.” 

My uncle ducked and made a hasty exit but not before I caught a whiff of his arousal. Underneath the ridiculous baggy shirts he wears, Stiles has a rocking body. Without clothes he could give any of us a run for ‘wolfy-hotness’. That was a fact. Another fact; if Peter ever touches my mate, I will kill him so dead, a voodoo coven and all their Orishas will turn blue trying to resurrect him. 

Stiles chose that moment to sag against me. “When can we kill him again?” 

“When, he proves he is not to be trusted.” My mate stared at me wide eyed. “No, we don’t trust him now. That does not prove he is untrustworthy, only that we are smart.”   
Stiles leaned into me a little harder, murmuring against my neck: “That last bit is debatable.” Then he rolled away from me, gathering up his clothes. 

***

The hallway echoed with ceiling fans, its walls almost seemed to breathe. Taylor had disappeared from school. I had just gotten up the nerve to plead my case. It was Wednesday, and I hadn’t seen him even once. I ditched third period, hanging out in the weight-room, planning be outside his English class when it got out for lunch. That way we could talk without everybody and their brother messing us about. The bell rang, and doors flew open the length of the hallway. I saw the other three kids from L.A. gather and wander off, but no sight of Taylor. 

“He is not here,” The throaty purr made me jump. Firstly, Erica shouldn’t have been able to get that close without me knowing it. Secondly, I am a follow-the-rules kind of guy (mostly) so I was already tense about getting caught ditching class to stalk a freshman. Thirdly, how did she know I was looking for Taylor? That I was looking for anybody? 

“What the fuck?” I saw her eyes flash amber as I spun around. So question number one answered. 

“Danny . . . we like you. And believe me when I say we trust you. But you are putting him in danger.” 

Erica knew where he was, knew what was happening, and knew about us. For a moment I did not care that she could gut me where I stood. I was up-in her face. “What the fuck!   
What’s going on, Erica?” 

Without batting an eyelash, she grabbed the front of my shirt and slammed me into the lockers with a loud crash. Heads turned; now she was in my face. “And now, I am liking you a little bit less. Do everybody a favor . . . take a cold shower.” 

She flounced away to a chorus of snickers. Props to her, everybody enjoyed seeing the athlete get roughed up by a girl. Now they would talk about that, and not what I had asked her. If they thought I had put a move on her and got rejected so much the better. I knew it was on purpose because Erica has never flounced anywhere in her life. 

The snickers and whispers followed me to my next class. Everybody was far too interested in the gay boy’s love life. Chemistry class was a waste of time. I couldn’t focus. The pack had squirreled Taylor away someplace. That didn’t require too much thought, tonight was another full moon. From what Stiles had told me, the first couple of months were hard on a new werewolf. They struggled to control their ability to change. The wolf nature overwhelmed their ability to reason, to tell friend from prey.   
That went beyond sensible. It was smart, and I just, did not, care. I wanted to see Taylor. I wanted to tell him how I felt. I wanted to tell him that I was not going run away or pretend that it never happened. Unfortunately there was a problem, it wasn’t safe for him. I had to wait for him to get control of his powers. I had to wait for the pack to decide he was strong enough to walk with ordinary people. I am good at waiting; god knows I’ve had practice. 

Our kitchen was deserted when I got home. After being repeatedly slaughtered playing Call of Duty I gave up. My brain was a wreck; all I could think about was Taylor. Jackson was off doing wolfy things, and I did not feel up to Lydia’s cross-examination. She’s great at spotting the things, people don’t want to admit and then leading you, none too gently to an accurate conclusion. I already know I am wrong to feel this way. Taylor is too young. I mean he’s not too young for the things we’ve been doing. I had done a lot more when I was fourteen. 

But I can’t expect him to stand up to his guardians. They already don’t like him spending time with me. If his social worker finds out, a restraining order is only the beginning. That’s just the human side of the equation. His world has been turned upside down to the tenth power in the last few months. It was horribly unfair of me to add my resentments about love and dating on top of what he already was dealing with. 

If this was love I was feeling, it would survive a week, a month, or a year if that is what it took while Taylor sorted out his problems and got around to dealing with what he felt. If it wasn’t love, then I was just crazy and that wasn’t his fault. Jackson said I was subconsciously attracted to the werewolf smell. Because I had been hanging out with him, Scott, and Stiles, my body associated that scent with safety and comfort even if I could not consciously recognize it. 

I guess he’s right because when I decided to go running it was Taylor’s jersey I picked to wear. It worked, as soon as I put it on, I felt calmer. That was worth an experiment. I took it off and put on Jackson’s sweatshirt. My anxiety started to rocket and my skin itched. I peeled it right off. Fisting the jersey under my nose I couldn’t smell Taylor at all, but it made me feel better. Conscious or not my body was sensitive to which werewolf I was in contact with, and Jackson was not my go to guy. 

The sun was still high. I could run myself out and be back hours before moonrise. As a double safety, I took the ridge trail, nothing but open grassland. No one could sneak up on me there. 

Now I had something to think about besides how much I wanted to see Taylor. It might be worth it to borrow stuff from Scott or even Derek and see how those made me feel. Jackson had always been a shit, but we had been friends for a long time. Also true, since his attempt to become a werewolf had gone horribly wrong, it was tough to stay in the same room with him. I had not really been paying attention, but as my feet found their rhythm and the packed earth of the trail vibrated through my body, I gave it more thought. We had been okay last year, but every time graduation had come up he got snarky, if not downright mean. 

I get it, he was adopted. His parents are rich. As long as he was a kid, it was a free ride. Once he turns eighteen that might not be true. On the surface there was nothing wrong with his home-life, but I could count the number of weeks both parents had been home in the last year on one hand. Jackson had a fancy car, plenty of money to spend on clothes or whatever he wanted but I hadn’t seen his parents at a single game, and he was our Captain. Sometimes I think he stayed my friend after I came out only because he was sure he had me all to himself. He’s like that, insecure, manipulative, and possessive. He would rather die than give up anything, shirt, watch, girlfriend, or BFF. That was a chilling thought. 

I had made it all the way to Lover’s Leap, and now I had more questions than answers. The trail behind me exploded with birds. Pheasants, quail, and killdeers rocketed out of the grass. That weirdness puzzled me a minute until I saw what was coming. Instinct took over, I had no care for how steep the bluff was or how narrow the trail. I ran because the devil was coming; the devil or something near kin to it. 

***

I was trying to be discreet. The wards I set around Danny’s house would let humans in and out, but anything magical would be repelled. Those wards were useless against hunters, but right now our problem was werewolves. When Peter brought us word that a strange werewolf was sniffing around, we intercepted Taylor on his way to school.   
Derek tried to make isolating him sound like a reasonable precaution. We knew Taylor had been attached to Larry. He was just a kid; the insanity that had turned his life upside down didn’t leave a lot of room for rational explanation. Derek was motivated. There were too many parallels with his own past for Derek not to be sweating this. 

It didn’t fly well. Taylor’s transformations were the most stable of any new wolf we had seen. He was cucumber cool, coming to terms with his new abilities and rapidly turning those into skills. Derek thinks I am naïve believing given the truth most people will try to make good choices. 

“It’s three days till the full moon. You never worried until the ‘night of’ before.” 

I tried to contain my smirk as Derek shot me one of his faux murderous looks. “There is a strange werewolf in town. He’s been keeping out of sight but we know he’s been to your house.” My revelation earned me another glare. 

“Larry?” I wasn’t surprised Taylor figured it out. I was, kind of amazed that Peter thought it was worth his time to let us know. 

Derek grumbled. “It might be Larry, it’s probably Larry, but this is not how we do things. We don’t sneak into another packs territory and snatch a cub, or cubs. If his claim is legit then he should come to me and ask for you,” Derek is big on the way things are supposed to be done. He was trained to be a beta; it’s what he knows, most of the time it works.   
And that was a point. Larry had as much if not more claim on Todd and Matt than he did on Taylor. 

Taylor caught that. “What’s Larry going to do with three teenage werewolves? Where could we go?” 

Derek’s frown relaxed a little. “Good thinking. If you understand the problem, so should Larry. We don’t think he is in his right mind. Sometimes when a pack loses its Alpha, one of the betas transforms; the other betas in the pack bond stabilize the new Alpha. If there aren’t any surviving betas, the Alpha goes mad. Matt and Todd weren’t strong enough, mature enough to stabilize Larry’s transition. Neither are you.” 

This was an important. We had seen firsthand how this played out with Peter. I finished Derek’s explanation. “He’s looking for his pack. Anything or anybody that gets in his way is going to be destroyed. So we get you out of here. That should lead him away from town.” 

We avoided leaving a scent trail for Larry to follow by having Derek piggyback Taylor to the lava tube we sometimes used for meetings. That way, if Larry tried to track Taylor down it would lead him straight to Derek. I wasn’t thrilled by this part of the plan. Derek thought he could use his alpha powers to subdue Larry. Maybe not cure him, but at least make sure he didn’t go on a killing spree. 

So, I put a circle of mountain ash around the Parr’s house to keep them safe and now I was doing the same thing at Danny’s when I heard the back door slam. I only caught a glimpse of Danny’s white running shorts vanishing into the trees. Oh fuck me!

I dropped my phone twice getting the text message out. ‘Danny is in the woods. Somebody catch him.’ 

***

Erica was trying to be helpful. She had come into the cave with Danny’s scent on her. She laughed and batted me away when I lunged at her babbling. I had been doing okay when I knew I would see Danny, even if I couldn’t talk to him. Stiles’ explanation had made sense, but the cave under Lover’s Leap is a long way from town. There were deer, rabbits, and scolding squirrels out here, and that other bit of me, that unfamiliar piece, stirred and took interest in the world. Derek said this was how it was supposed to be. That you let the wolf wake gradually and become familiar with the world, let the wolf feel safe. It made perfect sense. Until, Erica came in smelling like Danny, smelling like Danny when he wanted me. She was snapping in frustration by the time Serena showed up. The older girl took one look and doubled over laughing. 

I was trying to glare daggers, and that just made her laugh harder. 

“Okay you are forgiven,” she said pointing at Erica. “You couldn’t know what you were going to set off, bringing that boy’s scent in here”. 

Erica looked totally confused. Serena looked at us both and grimaced. “I am far too young and pretty to play den-mother.” 

What was it about Beacon Hills that made everybody so mysterious? You don’t get anywhere with grown-ups by demanding sense. “You are pretty. But can you help out a couple of dumb kids?” 

Erica shot me a sideways glance and then batted her eyelashes at Serena. “Yes. All-wise, and all-knowing one, please grace us with your wisdom.” 

Erica’s voice dripped acid and I kicked her in the shin for trying to spoil my efforts. I might as well have kicked the cave wall for all the reaction I got, but Serena unbent a little.   
“In a well ordered pack we don’t turn kids.” A hand rose to quell us both. “We don’t turn the very young,” she corrected. “If you turn a youngster, the human struggles to catch up physically and emotionally with the wolf. What that means for both of you is accelerated physical maturity and teenage hormones on crack.” 

Erica looked startled, eyes falling to her low cut top. “You mean . . .” 

“Exactly.” Serena answered. 

Erica looked at me then looked at Serena, a question clearly in her eyes and I had no effing idea what they were talking about. “Hello?” 

“Well…” Erica started, hesitated, and looked at Serena who nodded approval. “I have epilepsy, had epilepsy.” She corrected. “Any kind of strain could trigger an attack. I was scrawny, weak, and afraid of everything. After Derek gave me the bite I was strong. I was sexy, the way I always wanted to be sexy. Boys looked at me, men looked at me, and I didn’t need to be afraid the way other girls are afraid. I never really thought about it before.” 

“That is exactly right.” Serena said. Looking to me she went on. “What that means for you, is your body is accelerating toward adulthood and your normal teenage hormones are having a riot. That does not mean what you are feeling for that boy isn’t real. It does mean you need to take it slow, let everything settle down so that you know for sure if this is the relationship you want. Your wolf knows things your human life hasn’t prepared you for. That boy could be the one. Or it could be that you are overwhelmed and latching on to the only person that has shown you real care. I don’t know him and I don’t know much about you, but integrating the wolf with the man, is tough for everyone.” 

I was feeling kind of stunned and a little bit sick to my stomach. Was I fooling myself? If it wasn’t love, what was I feeling? Sudden doubt edged toward panic and my wolf responded, forcing himself forward to deal with whatever threatened me. There was a roaring in my ears like a raging fire. My vision swam and the cave walls seemed to pulse in time with my heart beat. Danny’s scent became more vivid, only something was wrong. It wasn’t the smell Erica brought in on her hands. 

The skitter and scrape of falling rock came from the cave entry. We all turned to look. I got a fresh wave of Danny’s scent, acrid with fear; he was out there. The cascade of pebbles and sand over the entry slowed but we could hear the minor landslide move across the cliff face. 

I couldn’t believe Danny was dumb enough to climb that bluff. A hunting howl made me shiver in dread. I’ve never heard such an awful sound in my life, but I knew exactly what it meant. A werewolf was calling his pack to join the kill. 

***

A single glance convinced me I wasn’t going to outrun what was coming. The river had under-cut the old lava flow forming this steep slope that was nearly a cliff. No one ever came here. It was supposed to be haunted. I had always thought it was about how the wind shrieked through the fractured stone. But the sun was still high. Didn’t this thing know it was supposed to hide from the sun? 

The rock wasn’t sheer enough to jump clear, assuming the river was deep enough for diving anyway, but there was a trail, more like a scar of discolored rock. I didn’t think much of a goat’s chance on that, but I liked my alternatives even less. There was no time to test my footing, no point in being careful. I ran, skipped, and bounded like a freaking deer.   
A huge weight slammed into me halfway down the cliff. The impact swept my feet away from the ledge. Earth below spun as we fell, black fangs of rock clawed after us in vain as we hurled past. We hit the ground; impact drove the teeth holding me a little deeper. A rib snapped, making me shriek. Jaws loosened their hold, and I tumbled onto rough scree. 

“You are not him.” It was a voice, but more terrible than any voice I knew. “You smell like him, why is that? Where’s Taylor?” 

The face that came between me and the spinning sky was all wrong. Eyes blazed acetylene blue. Every breath stabbed me. Hands were rough, pawing at me, rolling me across the ground. I wasn’t dead, not yet. If I could just think for a moment, maybe I could answer. But it wasn’t just a broken rib, or a fall down a cliff or being grabbed by huge jaws like a dog with a ragdoll. The bite was a spreading burn racing under skin and through bone. I was being consumed from within. I could hear myself screaming long after my vision went black. 

Our refuge suddenly seemed claustrophobic. This tunnel went a ways before shifting rock squeezed it off, but right now it felt like a cell. Taylor looked like he was going to be sick. I could sympathize, being told the ‘love of your life’ was only the whining of a kicked puppy. That had to hurt. I wasn’t feeling too steady myself. I thought it was the bite that made me sexy and strong, but maybe not. Maybe this was a cheat. Maybe I would have become this woman anyway if only I let nature take its course. What had I given up to shave a few years off my teenage misery? 

Taylor whirled toward the entry as the first rocks began to bounce past. The smell of a hunted human hit me at the same time as the wolf’s howl. Taylor launched himself at the cave mouth changing into his wolf shape in mid - leap. His next carried him into open air and he disappeared from sight. 

“Don’t just stand there!” Serena yelled as she shoved past me. She shifted as her jump took her beyond the ledge.

“Fuck all!”

I hit the ground running, just in time to see Taylor plow into a huge beast. That ‘thing’ was all wrong; not beta, not alpha, but some in between hybrid. Taylor’s teeth latched onto the scruff of the monster’s neck, letting his momentum and weight catapult him over and past the massive shoulders. The force wrenched the beast away from Danny.

Oh God! Danny, what was he doing here? I didn’t even need to look. I could smell the rapidly spreading stain; so much blood. He shrieked the agony of a dying animal, and I had to throttle down my wolf, eager to finish wounded prey. 

Serena hit the stranger head on. She was nearly equal in size, and all three went tumbling down the slope. I stood guard over Danny. It was bad. The beta had caught him just below the ribs. I could see organs throbbing through shredded muscle; exposed to air, they were turning livid colors. He was screaming, there was no sense in his eyes. They were open, dilated in shock, but he was seeing nothing. It would be a mercy to break his neck. 

The pack broke through the brush-line on the river bank. Derek, Vernon, and Scott piled onto the Omega, Isaac reached me a few seconds later, he shouldered me aside, kneeling besides Danny, big hands stretched to cover the gaping wounds.

The sharp despairing yelp slashed through my attention. Derek had the rogue’s throat in his jaws. Taylor had his teeth locked in the beta’s ruff, struggling to keep it pinned. I really did not want to watch that gentle boy become a killer. My attention wandered a bit before I realized Danny had stopped screaming. My eyes dropped to his body, the horror of knowing another friend was dead making me gag; only he wasn’t. 

“You could help,” Isaac’s voice was impatient. The impact of my knees hitting the ground rattled my skull. “How? What? How did you do that?”   
He grinned that lopsided grin of his. “Something Scott taught me. Put your hands here. It will hurt,” he warned. 

I couldn’t care less how much it hurt if it would save Danny. I could see Isaac’s arms, shoulders and neck were mottled with black where his blood carried away the toxins released by failing organs. 

“Don’t let it in too deep. You can stop your own heart if you aren’t careful.” 

There had to be more to it than that. I put my hands around Danny’s waist, cradling torn flesh, and waiting for instructions. There was a slight resistance, almost like the air itself was trying to keep me from making contact. Then I did touch him, and I was sucked forward, it felt like Danny’s skin was welded to mine. My breath and energy flowed down my arms into Danny. The life was being sucked out of me, and god did it hurt. Isaac’s hands were on my shoulders keeping me steady, reminding me I was not alone. The toxin’s mottling my skin weren’t as dark and livid as when Isaac had worked this magic. I hoped that meant Danny was recovering, not failing. 

Stiles and Peter came out of the brush along the river’s bank at a run. Peter was matching Stiles’ efficient lope. Pete, the re – Pete, the undead, failed alpha was playing body-guard to Derek’s mate? Which alternative universe had I woken up in this morning? 

Stiles gave Derek a quick look; after reassuring himself, he ignored that drama and headed for us. He had his Root-bag that was a welcome sight. Stiles has pulled off as many miracles, as he has blunders with his granny-lore. 

“Good job Isaac, Erica. Can you back off a little, give me room?”

I was glad to retreat; watching Stiles do, what he knew how to do. In a fight he is the weak link. I mean as human boys go he is actually wicked fast. That’s not the same as being equal to monsters. But give my friend a heads-up, and any monster would be walking into a world full of trouble. 

Derek and Serena were still dealing with the rogue; he was wearing his human shape now. Maybe Derek had been right about using his alpha powers. The rest of my pack headed toward me and Isaac. Scott was supporting a limping Taylor. It looked like the Omega had savaged one leg badly, but the bleeding had already slowed down, he would heal. Poor kid was a wreck, tears were streaming and he was having a hard time catching his breath. What a rotten day this had been. I didn’t know what to say. In no way was I sure Danny was going to survive, even if he did, I wasn’t sure what would happen next. 

The cubs from So Cal emerged from the brush bordering the river. They were all pale and badly shaken. I’ve had two run-ins with hostile werewolves and the level of violence we are capable of is terrifying. Only Jackson was missing, not that he would have been much use but WTF. 

***

The steady beep of machines pulled me out of sleep. White walls and the florescent lights of a hospital greeted me. A nurse’s uniform swam into my line of sight. The paper cup of cool water she put to my lips was the best thing ever. 

It took me a few minutes to attach a name to the concerned face studying mine. “Ms. P-rrrr?” It was more a grunt than question.

“Shush now. Try not to move.” 

Okay, I heard she was a nurse, and our local hospital wasn’t that big, but what are the chances? Under her crisp collar I got a glimpse of a fragile silver pentacle. It seemed chance might not be the problem. 

“Uh” The violent cough that followed shut me up more effectively than any scolding. 

Taylor’s foster mother frowned at me. “Is it a biological imperative that young males do exactly the opposite of what they are told? You have a punctured lung. Even, your metabolism is not going to bounce back from that in a few hours. Don’t do any talking, when your alpha shows up to check on you, tell him to come see me.”   
My jaw dropped. Maybe she took that as another effort to ask what she was doing in my room or maybe she just wasn’t done talking. “Hush! I told you that already. We did try to keep you out of this. No helping it now, but for what it’s worth, we’re sorry.” 

Just how scrambled was my brain? Did I hear that right did it mean what I think it does? Mrs. Parr finished the notations on her tablet and tucked that away in a large pocket. “You need more rest.” She flipped a switch on my IV drip, and exited closing the door behind her. Well if she was a villain, she was taking a very hands-off approach. I felt warm, safe, and snuggly. It was almost certainly the drugs. Considering how many nerves were shrieking at me a few minutes ago, I was perfectly happy to be drugged silly right now. 

I woke up to hushed whispers. Well my family’s version of hushed. Mom’s perfume slammed into my brain along with other smells that I had never noticed before but that were somehow familiar. It went with my experiment with Taylor’s jersey and Jackson’s sweat shirt. My parents were here. Eyes still closed, I knew what that meant. But I had no idea how to explain that to them or if I should even try. 

I didn’t know what to say about how I ended up in the hospital this time either. They were building up to a fight. The things they fight about make no sense to me, never have, but I know how to distract them. 

“Okasa,” the word became a bowling-ball inside my chest. It must have shown because my mom had a death grip on the remote control thingy as if repeatedly pressing the call button would make the nursing staff any faster. 

It did not take long. The nurse calmed them down, assured them that I was going to recover and just needed to rest. It wasn’t exactly subtle, but it worked. Both of my parents pressed a kiss to my forehead and headed out. Family drama delayed. The nurse must have adjusted my medication again, because the warm snuggly feeling came back and I drifted off. 

Third time, it was smell that woke me. Their scent was also familiar but more complex than I remembered. I debated going back to sleep, but their worry and anxiety was nagging at my nerves. It was irritating but I was feeling better; the crushing weight on my chest was gone. Erica and Scott peered around the door. I wasn’t sure if they were being considerate or sneaky. “I’m not in shape to bite anyone. Not yet.” My voice was still raspy, but I swallowed and some of the burning irritation eased. 

They were definitely slinking as they entered my room, unsure of their welcome. Well hospitals make everybody nervous. But if I could smell them coming, it was a sure bet they could smell what had happened to me. 

What worried me is why they came alone; where the hell was Jackson, and why wasn’t Taylor the first in the door? I remembered enough to know he was the one that rescued me. Well, if you could call being turned into a werewolf a rescue. 

“Who else is hurt?” It was a perfectly reasonable question, and from the confusion on their faces you would think I was talking Pidgin. 

Scott grunted something I couldn’t make out super hearing or not; then spoke a little more clearly. “Well, you, mostly. Taylor took a couple of swipes before Derek shot that old bear.” Bear? Oh word! Was that the story? How did they back that up and how were they going to explain my recovery? 

“So everyone is safe and you two are the only ones that love me?” Erica turned beet red and Scott went a little pale. 

Erica cracked first. “Um… well, no. I mean I practically had to hog tie Taylor to keep him from sleeping under your bed.” Embarrassment was not a good look on her. 

“Then . . . you two . . . are the canaries in the coal mine?” Usually I enjoy torturing people, but this was way too much work. I only really cared about one thing, and I wasn’t going to get it unless I asked for it. “If Taylor wants to be here, then he gets to be here, and you run any interference he needs,” I’m usually more diplomatic than this. “Cause guess what, like it or not I’m part of the club now . . . and I am fucking tired of people who think they know more about what is good for me than I do.” 

Stiles’ head poked around the doorframe. “What I’ve been saying all along.” 

“Shut up Stiles!” That was from all three of us. I was definitely feeling better. 

“Shutting up, more importantly; going to fetch the required package, but dude, now you are on the team, we are unstoppable, your hacking and my research skills, hell, we can crack that firewall on Area 51 and, and . . .” 

Prolonged glares finally made a dent in his Adderall haze. “Ah . . . yeah, going . . . going, and shutting up.” 

Scott looked apologetic. “I never told you before, but he only does that to people he likes.” 

“And you don’t tell people that, because you want him to have friends?” Erica’s sarcasm was back.

Scott’s voice dropped into its snarky range. “Stiles does not need me to make friends for him. Not being his friend has its own rewards.”

“Arrgh! I already have sisters. Could you two take this somewhere I don’t have to hear it, like across town?” 

That sobered both their faces. Scott’s voice dropped back to sickroom levels. “Yeah, about that, we’re sorry. We didn’t know you had any of Taylor’s stuff. We should have . . . well we should have thought about it, and checked.” 

Erica shuffled forward nervously. “Taylor is completely freaked out. He never thought Larry would go after you, none of us did.” 

I heard the screech of power brakes from the street below my window. I let them stew while I tuned into sneakers rushing in my direction. 

“I would stand away from the door if I were you.” They were so focused on making peace with me that my comment barely registered. When the door flew open, Scott was rocked back on his heels as Taylor shoved past. Taylor did stop short of throwing himself on top of me. 

“You’re okay.” 

Great little gods, the scent of him lifted me. How dumb was that human nose that it missed all this tingly sensation that came with Taylor. “Come here.” I put all my yearning and blind hope in divine love into that summons. 

Very gently he climbed onto the bed and into my arms. The stitches in my side stretched and throbbed. His face lifted in sudden alarm. “I’m hurting you!” He tried wriggling away but I held him tighter.

“No . . . not having you here hurts more.” Something moved in me; slowly I touched my nose to his and inhaled deeply. The look of near panic faded as he leaned into me and followed my lead. 

Taylor, this was Taylor, stubborn, prideful, worried about being a burden, not knowing how he strengthened the people in his life. Taylor, his good and his bad, if I had any doubts this was the end of them. I could never have known him, would never know anybody like this as a human. I would have missed it all and not had a clue. 

Everybody in this room was feeling guilty. Somehow they thought they were to blame for what happened. I didn’t like that, more importantly it wasn’t true.   
“I want this to be clear. . . I wouldn’t go back to what I was. No one knew. No one is to blame. Not you, not Derek, and not me. So, we go forward from this point, no regrets, agreed?” 

I could see Taylor struggle with the idea this was not his fault, caught a whiff of arrogance. “Taylor, if I don’t believe in divine intervention, why would I buy into you being some kind of jinx? You are not a helpless kid anymore. Own the power you have, not the make-believe power that made life more tolerable.” As speeches go it wasn’t bad.

There was set of boots coming down the hallway. Stiles grunted outside; then Derek came through the door with Stiles dragged behind in a headlock, and still fumbling with his phone. The alpha was a little more grim than usual, but there was a determination in his gait. God he expected me to be angry. He expected me to blame him and he was going to stand there and take it. Asshole!

“So . . . Derek, there is a witch that wants to talk to you.” Everybody froze. Okay, this was going better than I expected. 

The alpha’s body almost sagged in relief; something he could deal with, something he could fight. “Who’s the witch and what does she want to talk about?” 

Stiles squeaked a protest. Absently Derek adjusted his hold and Stiles was standing upright squeezed against his side. My friend tried to adjust his attitude from one undignified position to another. Taylor shifted into a more protective position on my bed. It made me smile. Pretty soon I would be in the position to protect him, and that made me feel immensely better. 

“She is Taylor’s foster mother, and I’m pretty sure she wants to know how many more orphan cubs this pack can absorb.”


	5. Epilogue

Serena’s SUV was packed. I was sorry to lose her, I was sorry to lose all of them, but I already had a mate. Larry is too unstable for me to manage long term. Serena’s pack is large and strong; they can stabilize him, maybe. The twins were going with her; it’s too soon to guess if they would form a new pack, and reclaim their territory when they are grown.   
Deaton had contacted a True-born pack in Alaska. A fictional uncle had claimed guardianship of Euri and the courts had consented. She would be happier there, and I was happy not to have that particular burr in my metaphorical ear. Taylor was staying; he and Danny are a thing. They didn’t laugh at me when I sat them down for ‘the talk’. The heart wants what it wants, and who am I to judge? 

The Parrs had gently corrected my assumptions. They are not witches, they are Wiccans. Unlike some people, they believe werewolves are also children of the Goddess. They also believe we have a role in nature’s harmony; like the whale, dolphin, and grizzly; a world without us is a poorer place. 

Chris Argent and I had sat down for a very frank discussion about the politics of Werewolf Hunters. There is a clan named Hood and they had a leader variously called Red Hand, or Red Wave Riding. Apparently she has some kind of biblical objection to supernatural beings in general and werewolves in particular. Chris thought his father might have been sleeping with her. That part wasn’t sure, but wherever she went, the old code of conduct was abandoned. 

Chris has plenty of thugs, but he has only one child. He reasons that our truce protects his Daughter. Stiles did his thing and came back with something more disturbing. Red Wave Riding translates as possessed by demons in Old Norse. He cast the granny bones too, Fenris defend Yggdrasil “gobbledygook” he said, but he doesn’t have the confidence in his magic that I do.


End file.
